


Yellow

by Tiz



Series: Colour of Roses [2]
Category: Farseer Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Liveship Traders Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Tawny Man Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Action, Angst, Fantasy, Fix-It, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Intrigue, M/M, Plot, Plot-Driven, Post-Canon, Romance, Second Part of a Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiz/pseuds/Tiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Yellow Rose blooms<br/>You'll at last know of me<br/>You'll learn what Time has done<br/>With the man I used to be</p><p>When the Yellow Rose blooms<br/>Could we partner once more?<br/>Could we dance to Fate's tune<br/>As we have done before?</p><p>(Fragment from "When the Roses Bloom" by FitzChivalry Farseer)</p><p>[The world of the Realms of the Elderlings belongs to Robin Hobb and to the rightful owners of the rights. No money for me here. :)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Second part, this one is a lot longer. I hope you will appreciate this as much as I have appreciated writing it :)
> 
> Please, if you like it, leave a comment, they really mean a lot to me :) Plus, I would really like to get to know some of you :)
> 
> As always, deep thanks to Sand Dun and Carlile. Also to Elaina, that helped a lot getting the story straight! :D
> 
>  
> 
> NB: KEEP THE MAP IN THE FIRST CHAPTER OF WHITE CLOSE. It helps, otherwise you may get lost a little :)

**First Chapter: Sun**

_Liatharin has, historically, a relevant place in the politic of Clerres. The land lies at the western side of Clerres itself, and it confines with the steppes. The He-Yi, or One River, made by a convergence of the Heise and the Baise, the Black and the White, flows inside the land, which is rich in good soil for crops. The cities are few, but there are many small and prosperous villages. Liantharin had been called "The Granary of Clerres," with good reasons. If Behit is the spiritual center of Clerres, then Liantharin used to be its major food source, owning to its vast rice fields. Such an amazing amount of riches breeds beauty, and the few cities were jewels of architecture and gardens and libraries. People of Liantharin favored culture and it is rumored that the use of the Huans, the eunuchs that serve as advisors and councilors for kings and nobles all around Clerres, was born here. Certainly all the Huans came from Liasa, Liantharin's capital._

_This is, mostly, a thing of the past._

_For the past fifteen years, Liantharin had been in the throes of a civil war. Emperor Lin and Shining Empress Ching-Lang had several sons, but only one daughter: the Shining Heir Hui-Jia. She married a young noble of her mother's court, and, as is the custom, the Emperor and the Shining Empress retired in the Mountains to spend their last years meditating upon the White Prophecies. Her Shining Majesty ruled with her husband for few years, though. She died giving birth to a son, named Kuan, thus almost ending the Liantharin bloodline. It was only the direct intervention of the White Prophet himself, but recently returned to Cleress, that forestalled Civil War. He said that the daughter of Hui-Jian's son would inherit the title of Shining Empress. Yet when Kuan, at the age of sixteen, produced such a daughter with his wife, Chun, he refused to acknowledge the child as the Shining Heir. The couple crowned themselves as Emperor and Empress, claiming they would give up the reign when the child, named Li-Hua, would become of age, and trying to force Emperor Cong, husband of the late Shining Empress, to retire in the Mountains._

_Rumors that Kuan and Chun had no desire to ever relinquish the throne came to the point when Emperor Cong, fearing for her life, kidnapped the child, his own granddaughter, and fled._

_From almost fifteen years ago on, Liatharin had been plagued by a civil war. Kuan and Chun hold the south of the country, while General Cong and the Shining Heir Li-Huan hold the north. Liasa, the once proud capital, is in ruin. Nomads of the steppes raid the western border, unchallenged, bringing the weird magic of their Iduyans, the demon-summoning shamans inside Liasa itself._

_Matters are coming to an end, however, for, by the White Prophet’s words, Li-Huan is the Shining Heir and will soon come of age. What will happen then, when Kuan and Chun, whose marriage produced no more than a daughter and who will either be faced with either surrendering or be hunted down by all the countries of Cleress, is unknown._

 

 

Nineteen days had passed since the day I left my friend. Nineteen days of travel on the White Road, alone save from Vien and Snowcloud. An uneventful journey. I felt that something momentous should have happened in those days, for had I not set my eyes again on somebody I had truly thought never to talk to again? Yet nothing happened, and as it was the last day of travel, I glanced longingly out of the decorated window at the White Road, still empty from the early hour.

"No, my liege. I doubt there is any way that you could sneak into Dushanbe without being noticed."

Vien's aggrieved voice made me smile. I turned around, and mournfully observed the light brown robe on the wooden bed. Oh, it was beautiful to see: the watered silk with the motif of white wolves and suns, the silver and gold embroideries on the hem. It was so complicated that the eyes dazzled at seeing it. Truly, a thing of beauty. Yet I had always felt self-conscious wearing such garments, memories of a time when I lived alone in a far-away cottage springing into my mind every time. I wondered still if the child, the boy, and the man I had been would recognize me as himself now. I think not. Beauty had never been for me.

I sighed and started to dress, with Vien's careful help. Even if he never touched me, I fretted during the whole process while Snowcloud looked at me with unabashed mirth in her eyes. Her only preparation had been to put on the collar of white silver and to have her fur thoroughly washed and brushed. And, unlike many other dogs, she enjoyed both processes. As for me, I already had to endure being shaved and having my hair combed, both things for which I had little patience. Vien, as usual, coped with my fretfulness by ignoring it. I glanced at the young Liatharinan man while he helped buckle the heavy belt, made of three ropes of gold, around my waist. After he assured himself that the fold flexed to his satisfaction, he nodded and smiled.

"Here. Now you are ready to enter your city, my King." I noticed his hesitation and cocked my head.

"No. I won't take the palanquin, Vien. Have I ever?"

The young eunuch glanced at me with what I believe is true pain in his eyes.

"No, but... All the Kings of Vietmar..." There was a note of desperation in his tone. I sighed.

"All the Kings of Vietmar have been of Clerres. I am not. They may think me a barbarian, but would I use a palanquin they would think me a barbarian aping a man. No. I shall ride inside Dushanbe.".

He nodded, even if all his training rebelled against the idea. I saw in his eyes the three days I had spent in the White Inns two before this one on the Road. My muscles ached and contracted so much that I could not move without pain. I kept my gaze steady. He squared his slim shoulders and opened the carved door to let me pass. Snowcloud leaped to her feet and moved, her pawns tickling an even rhythm on the titled floor decorated with geometric shapes in soft brown and amber and white. I went down the wide stairs into the main room of the White Inn. It was empty, as well, since all the other travelers would await my departure to go for their business. Tradition dictated that the King should be alone when returning from the Seventh Year Meditation in the Behit Mountains, to keep his mind in the correct frame of purity and peace for the longest possible time. I snorted at the thought but as it saved me from bringing a suitable retinue, I was willing to play along.

I didn't glance to the decorations, white and silver and cream, simple and yet satisfying to the eyes, or ask for food and drinks, though I could have had both. I went directly to the stable. It was an ample annex, well lit and well cured, made in stone like the rest of the White Inn. The animals' minds that brushed mine as I passed were either pleasantly tired and resting or eating and impatient to move back on the road. I relaxed some more. No beast was callously treated here and his or her quiet satisfaction helped me find my peace. The horses had food and fresh water and a couple of stable hands moved around. They stopped to bow deeply at me, scurrying away on bare feet. I looked at a boy mucking a stall, and thought of my childhood.

I stopped in front of a stall where a young, lively animal was pawing the straw-covered ground. I smiled at the horse, raising my hand to him, and he neighed at me while I patted his neck. Toiden, the black stallion of the peculiar breed called Road, danced on his feet. I smiled again, pleased. I noticed he was already saddled, the motif of my garments repeated, in silver and gold, over the whole structure. I brought him out of the stall, put my foot on the stirrup and heaved.

_You are pensive, brother mine._

I turned my head and watched Snowcloud. She and Toiden were well used to each other, and the stallion merely looked at her, snorting.

_Yes. I... don't like this. You know._

The wolf-dog scratched herself behind the ears, and yawned.

_That may well be true. Still, aren't you happy to see the cubs?_

I closed my eyes, while urging Toiden onwards. The sun took me by surprise. It is never really cold in Vietmar, the temperature moderate for most of the year, and since we were out of the rain-season dry. Still, the sun shined with a strength I rarely remember. The whole world seemed to sparkle, the colors brighter and sharper than I recalled. At the edge of the White Road, always kept clean, the jungle murmured. I had not known of such a thing before my travel in this land, and still it makes my heart beat faster. The sun made the leaves, all of different sizes and greens shine. Flashes of colors, hidden flowers, and even more hidden insects sparkled when the wind blew away the leafy cover. A low mist floated around the tallest palms and trees, feet above my head. A faraway scream echoed somewhere in the depths.

I stopped Toiden and watched, enchanted as always from the buzzing of life I could feel shifting at the far side of my consciousness. The jungle is almost as addictive as the Skill for the Witted ones. I breathed, and I felt the knots in my shoulder give completely away.

 _Chine is hardly a cub, Sister. She is a grow woman_. _And Fizek is a man, now,_ I replied to Snowcloud. I could feel her motherly pleasure.

_They have not chosen mates yet. They may look big, but they are still my cubs._

I shook my head, amused, and turned towards the door of the stable. Vien came out, on a Road mare the colour of milk with honey, of strong stock and calm disposition. She reminded me of Sooty, and I have given her to him for such a gentle mount as she is better for an inexperienced rider. The Huan looked at me with a resigned expression but then smiled. I nodded and squared my shoulder and turned the stallion towards Dushanbe.

Dushanbe is the capital city of Vietmar and one of the biggest of Clerres now that Liansa is destroyed. It lay inside Vietmar's Gulf, and in the middle of the country. It is a place of trade, and the only dock of Clerres outside of the insular Malach. The people of the White Land, for such is was the meaning of Clerres, mistrusted ships and sails, preferring their roads. What little contact with the outside World there was, it came from Dushanbe. Yet this had always been a minor source of richness for the country, the major ones being the White Roads that go towards the Desert and Dhevron and farthest still, to Atremandia and faraway Tantres. It is also the site of the Kings' Palace.

As soon as I came within three miles of the city, I noticed the lotus's petals on the ground. In the last mile, a crowd of people, peasants, farmers and craftsmen, surrounded the road, shouting and waving flowered branches. I watched them for sign of hunger or treason. I saw the simple joy of the simple men at a celebration in many, disdain towards the Barbarian King in some. Some women simpered when I met their eyes, while others blushed. Some young men straightened as they were on guard, and some sneered. But I found signs of neither famine nor treachery, and so I raised a hand to salute them.

_They love you, brother._

I did not shake my head only because thousands of eyes were watching me. Snowcloud trotted beside me, bushy tail high and looking more regal than I ever had.

_I am only the Barbarian King, The Daman Vua. They like the show._

I heard Snowcloud snort with my mind, more than with my ears.

High General Kien and High Admiral Jek joined me at the gates of Dushanbe. My smile thawed noticing how Jek had chosen a horse instead of the palanquin, as well. A good steppes mare, as healthy, strong, and lively as she is.

High General Kien descended from the palanquin, adorned with the Red of the west, and Jek dismounted the mare. The crowd went silent. While Snowcloud, Vien and I waited on the road, the two gave order to open the gates.

The massive bronze gate, chiseled with scenes from prophecies and dreams, swung silently open, and I marched into the City between the cheering of the crowd as High General Kien and Jek took their places behind me. The King was back. The Seventh Year Celebration could begin.

I do not care to recount of my homecoming. Suffice to say that I exchanged conventional words with nobles who wanted me dead because I made them richer and walked on gardens where winter never blown. I kneeled to be purified by the incense, the strong smell making my eyes water, and I delivered to the population the speech they expected about how the next seven years would be years of good luck because so the White Prophet had said so. I still reeked of the too-strong incense, and I glanced longingly at their simple feast where whole pigs were roasted and peddlers of noodles soups, both salty and sweet, started their businesses and bands played their vivacious tunes. I sighed to myself, reaching out for the comfort of Snowcloud, only to find her pleasantly asleep in the kitchen, her belly full of good food. I couldn't help but smile. Then I straightened and went on with the rituals, turning to the Lords of the East and the West so they could tell me the good tidings of their land, to ensure good news for the seven years to come.

After hours of rituals, I went inside the Palace in the Inner Garden, alone but for Vien. Soon I would go to meet she who was my wife, Queen Chundra, and the child who was not mine, Prince Chien. But for now, I had a brief respite. I was filling my eyes with the carefully arranged flowers of the place and thinking on my wild jungle in Waitan, when Lord Nugyen Hai Dahn approached me.

I waited till he cleared his throat before turning. Lord Dahn is a short man, even for the standard of the eastern Tma people and I towered over him. I nodded at him, to signal I noticed his presence. His black eyes were fixed on my shoulder. The Vietmar's custom to never meet a superior’s eyes never ceases to unnerve me. He had short, black, straight hair and a rather dark complexion. Even if not old, his love for banquets was evident in his increasing girth. He wore the blue of the east, and there was so much gold woven inside that my eyes hurt looking at it. I silently blessed Vien. At least, on my clothes there wasn't any tinkling precious metal.

We clasped our left hands with the right and bowed, he more deeply than I. It took me ages to learn how to bow properly.

"My King, I hope your time on the mountains brought you joy and peace." I nodded again, my mind carefully devoid of any thought of my Fool. I could not think of him then. I could not.

"The mountains are the fountain of wisdom. We are always lucky to quench our thirst there," I replied formally, my eyes sweeping 'till I found Hu, Lord Dahn's Huan, behind his master. I said nothing to him, as Lord Dahn said nothing to Vien. Then I watched Lord Dahn himself, keeping my face still.

Lord Dahn made a show to glance around and whispered, humbly lowering his eyes.

"I hope you will not forget the tiding brought to you by the Noble House of Nyugien, My Lord Demonsbane. The commerce you so wisely started with the... Away Kingdoms has prospered well and the roads to the east are full with goods."

I almost arched my eyebrow, but caught myself in time. Ah. I nodded again, my face stony.

"I shall never forget the ones who have been loyal in following my directives, Lord Dahn," I replied, bowing again. "Your help in strengthening the commerce has been noted, and will be remember." I smiled, a little. "I am sure that, when the White Prophet comes, he will bless the endeavor, as well."

Lord Dahn relaxed visibly and bowed back more deeply than I did.

"The White Insight shines like the light of the Sun against the darkness of Time, My King. So he shall." He paused, and glanced at my shoulder. We both knew I had to go.

"May the next seven years bring you and your land prosperity and peace, Lord Dahn."

The little man nodded again, and bowed deeply.

"May they bring such riches to all of Vietmar, my liege."

He turned and left, leaving me in the garden, that sparkled with colored flowers and buzzed with insects. When he was far away enough, I turned to Vien.

"I should speak to Chundra about this."

My Huan merely nodded, watching the back of Lord Dahn and Hu with a carefully blank expression.

I breathed in the subtly scented air, and walked on the carefully manned path. The garden was outlying, between the public compound of the palace and the medium building where most of the administrative work took place. I passed through it, ignoring the carving and the amber lacquer, a part of me noticing the people bowing when I passed. I think I made the customary Seventh Year Blessings, but I can't recall it. My feet echoed on the titled floors.

I headed toward the Inner Rooms, the home of the Royal Family. Just before I started the seven steps to enter the slightly elevated dwelling, Vien took me by my sleeve and before I could protest, proceeded to prepare me to his satisfaction, never touching more than my clothes. I sighed and shook my head, watching the Inner Gardens. Not a gardener was seen in the carefully maintained grounds, and the birds chirping provided all the music needed.

The garden itself is laid out with pebbled walkways and cobbled drives that wound between plantings and statuaries and palm trees and ferns, a place to rest the mind and the eyes, to find communion with the World, if one can. I never could. The sun had started to set, bathing the gardens in a warm, pleasant glow. I breathed in, slowly, trying to ignore Vien's fussing.

_You are finicky like a hungry cub, brother mine. Packs groom each other. Stop whining._

Snowcloud’s sleepy comment showed me she was awake. I quested toward her while Vien arranged my clothing to his satisfaction. She was coming directly toward the Inner Rooms. I sent her a brief thought, scarce information about my whereabouts.

When my Huan was satisfied, he nodded at me, well pleased. I shook my head with a bemused expression and entered the building, my eyes glazing over the amber encased in flint over the door. The Inner Rooms are spacious, airy and silent. In truth, they are a relaxing place, with wide spaces and light coming in from the tall windows, and a subtle smell of flowers. The floor is polished, rich wood, and the carvings are subtle and delicate. Yet, from the moment I entered the Inner Rooms, I tensed.

"CHA!"

I turned around at the sound of tiny feet pattering on the ground and kneeled, opening my arms. A small form dressed in the warmer tone of honey and brown threw itself inside them. I rose on my feet, holding Little Prince Chien against me. I smiled at the child.

"He is walking fast, now." I nodded to Vien, who was watching the Little Prince with the fond respect of the servant towards his Lord's offspring, and smiled at his words while the darkness dissipated a little from my mind. Chien was babbling away happily, kicking me with his small feet. I listened to him, trying to make sense of his childish wording. The quiet silence of the Inner Rooms is always startling after the chaos of the rest of the Palace. Here, the servants are trained to be unseen and unheard, and the only sounds from the outside came from the Inner Gardens: birds singing and wind through leaves. When in Dushanbe, I have often wished for a Buckeep stonewall, but this is a realm of peace and quiet. Or so it should have been.

Vien opened an adorned door and I stepped in. The room was spacious, and its wooden colors made me think about someone I didn't want to think about. Chiming bells played a soft symphony on the open windows, dancing with the wind. The sunlight pooled on a warm bright point on the floor, tinting the wood with the warm orange shades of the late afternoon. Children’s toys of wood and ceramic, in bright colors, lay scattered around.

"You were back in no time, Chihn." I turned around at the carefully modulated voice and knew not whether to smile or tense. I had known Chundra for four years, and she is my wife in name if not in fact, but her presence has the power to make me slightly uneasy and at home all at once. She raised herself from the deceptively simple chair and walked to me. She puts me in mind of a tiger, the mightiest of the cats. That day she wore only a simple silky robe in soft green, her dark hair, a chestnut colour not unlike the one of her skin and her eyes, flowed on her slim shoulders. She smiled at her son, shaking her head, bemused.

"He can't stay silent a moment. So much like his other father. You should spend more time with him, Chihn. He needs a man in his life." I actually lowered my eyes, looking at the floor, counting the grains in the wood. Vien had disappeared, as he was wont to do when I spoke privately with Chundra, even if he knew of my pact with Sendàr.

"We spoke of this, Chundra. When he is old enough, he should come to Waitan. It is good for him to know all the land he will rule one day. And I am more needed there than here. You manage splendidly."

Queen Chundra, daughter of Queen Iyrial of Uzkabat, Sister of Queen Yanti of Uzkabat, merely nodded, twirling her auburn hair around her fingers. We sat on two stools, carved to match our heights, and we let the silence flower between us while I bounced Chien on my knees as he laughed happily. I didn't know if I should have been at ease or on edge.

"An eventful Meditation, I am told. Five princes didn't come back to the Mountains. We were afraid for you, for a while."

I didn't raise my eyes from Chien's smile, but her voice chilled me to the core. Had someone connected King Xanhà Doi Chihn of Vietmar with the five deaths? I shrugged, putting the squirming child back on the ground, where he went to play with his toys.

"No, I elected to spend my days in simple meditation. I am a Barbarian still; the other rulers don't pay much attention to me. I had heard of the deaths only on the Road," I explained, raising my eyes to meet hers. It was enough truth: I had heard of it on the White Road. I had known for a far longer time. Chundra nodded and watched Chien play with toy versions of the soldiers he was named after, a thoughtful expression on her face. I continued talking, before she could interrupt again.

"We should talk about the White Prophet coming. He will have to come to Waitan but beforehand, I think you should bide him welcome here, in Dushanbe, with delegates from the Nyugien and Trihn Houses. I met Lord Nyugien Hai Dahn, outside. They want to be present, and want to hear what the Prophet has to say on the changes we have brought."

Chundra nodded, slowly, and a shade of an awed apprehension mixed with respect crossed her eyes, the same look of all of Clerres when the White Prophet is mentioned. I watched her, and wondered not for the first time if, for my friend, being the Fool of Buckeep and seen with scorn instead of fear had not been an improvement.

"And you think the Prophet will approve of it?" The slowness of her speech and the stillness of her pose spoke to me more than her careful wording. I nodded. I knew my Fool. He didn't fear change for change's sake and he already knew of the opening of commerce and the annex of Waitan. If he hadn't spoken till now, he would not speak now.

"Yes. And I am sure that not having the Barbarian King present will be better for the standing of Vietmar. Let them think it is not my doing, if they so wish.".

Chundra nodded and rose to her feet. She was, I noticed, barefooted, as she was likely to be even outside, as in the custom of her people, and her anklets clinked pleasantly when she walked. She went to a small cabinet. She took out some liquor and I smiled, amused, shaking my head and raising an eyebrow to remind her of what had happened last time she tried to make me drunk. She laughed, a rich laugh, and nodded playfully. I had given my word to Sendàr, and I would not break it.

Chundra rang for tea, and turned toward me with the grace of a hunting cat while Snowcloud trotted into the room from the garden door. I smiled at my bond companion and Chien squealed in joy, trotting towards her. Snowcloud whined and lapped at his face, while the child laughed and took handful of her long fur into his chubby wrist, his darker complexion, heritage of his mother, looking even darker against the white fur.

_Ah, I so like this cub, brother mine. It will be fun, to teach him to hunt._

I smiled more, and turned toward the garden, standing face to face with Chundra, who watched the wolf-dog and the child with the fond smile of a mothers. She had long since learnt how harmless Snowcloud was for Chien. Chundra raised her head to me and nodded.

"You weren't always so careful about exposing yourself, husband." The comment was mild in tone and words, but sent ice into my spine and veins. For a moment, my head spun and my hands sweated while my heart beat wildly. Still, my voice was steady if faraway-sounding when I answered her.

"I had reasons to learn, Chundra." She said nothing more, looking at the darkening sky above, the first stars shining over the Palace. I too, said nothing, retracting in the safe presence of Snowcloud and her simple joy in playing with the man-cub. Gradually, my heart came back to its normal rate and my muscles unclenched, leaving me dizzy. I felt a headache coming.

A servant woman came in with a tray of tea and pastries. (Chundra was peculiar: she didn't have a Huan.) She went towards the small trail and took an exquisite cup, sipping the warm liquid without sitting. Then she smiled. "Very well. I shall bid to the White Prophet the Vietmar's welcome... and send him your way to bless the new White Road and to decide about Water Roads." She paused, the thought unpleasant for anyone in Clerres. Water was distrusted: only land roads were safe. I nodded and turned my eyes to watch the moon. Gibbous. When I would see it again in the same way, it would be with my old friend at my side. I knew not whether to be scared or happy.

_You are awfully unsure today, Changer. Eat something. Empty stomachs make jumbled thoughts._

I almost laughed at Snowcloud’s suggestion and reluctantly went to take a pastry and some tea, thinking about plans, my jungle, and friendship while Chien fell asleep on Snowcloud’s flank like my Fool had.


	2. Wheat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of Yellow! :) I am glad you are still here for the ride.
> 
> As someone may have noticed, there is some art inside the chapters. I have commissioned many OCs, because I love them ;P You will see others. Beside, it helps with the visual :)
> 
> 42 hits to the first chapter. Wow. I am impressed. Didn't know there were 20 people who searched for RoE fanfiction... Thank you all! :)
> 
> Any comment will probably make my day :)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, deep thanks to Sand Dun and Carlile, my betas :D

****

****

** Chapter 2: Wheat **

 

_We are the Huans._

_We aren't men, we aren't women: we are Loyalty._

_We don't marry , we don't have a Home: we serve the House of our Lords._

_We don't have children: we help our Lords' tree to prosper._

_We don't need orders: we do what out Lords need us to do._

_We don't provide for our natal families: our Lords provide to them for us._

_We don't need anything: our Lords give us all._

_We don't have friends: our Lords share their hearts with us._

_We are the Huans._

_We are Loyalty._

_Huans' Creed, wrote onto the Great Trainers' Doors_

 

I spent the next few days making preparations for my coming back to Waitan. For as much as I wished otherwise, I was the only King that Vietmar had and, despite the fact that the day to day running of much of the state was on Chundra's capable shoulders more than on mine, I had duties to attend to. The death of the rulers of Malach, Behit and Kizah, all three countries far away from Vietmar, concerned us but little. The never-ending civil war in Liatharin was a greater difficulty. Snowcloud was disappointed to know that Chyne had to leave for the border on insistence of Bitter Moon, one of my solos and the first person in Vietmar who had learned to use the Skill: Iduyans' were acting again, close to the border near Thang Log. I debated with myself if my presence up there would be necessary and as I did so I was uneasy between my promise to the Fool and my duties as King, but when I Skilled to Chyne and Bitter Moon they both assured me they could take any demons the Iduyans could manage to summon. Snowcloud's pride at the sharp fangs and claws of what she considered her cub tinged our bond for many days. My muscles gave me some difficulty, as well. Though I spent no day laying in bed like a cripple, my tendons sometimes ached for the long journey on saddle and I had to rub myself with aconite to avoid cramping.

In the end, two Tendays and three days after I had left my Fool back in the mountains, I stood at the docks, watching the ocean roll endlessly and breathing in the brackish iodine smell of the immense water ready to come back to my Waitan. The wind blasted my nostrils with the scent of beached kelp and tar and oakum, while the keening of the gulls and seabirds was an eerie melody above the rhythmic shushing of the waves. It was so alike Buckkeep, and yet so different: the subtle flavours carried in the hair had a fiery, spicier note, the sea birds cries sounded subtly different, the light itself was sharper than in the days of my youth.

People went from their business around the Royal Dock, for ships must dock and unload as the rising and falling of the tides allow, and those who fish for a living must follow the schedules of the finned creatures, not those of men. When the fishermen's or the merchant's eyes fell on me they bowed with either the style of the west or the east and then scuttled around leaving a wide, open space around the wharf where I was standing. As I watched them the changes I brought on this land stood stark clear. Between the square-sails ships of Clerres were the more complicated one of the eastern countries, bigger, stouter vessel made for crossing the wide ocean. And, best among them all, the massive ships of the Great Sails fleet, standing as thoroughbred among nags. Even at my untrained eyes, those ships looked beautiful, sleek and powerful at once. Up until recent time, they were the only one able to cross the wide expanse of sea between Clerres and the northern countries, for the charts were heavily guarded. People were shouting in several languages, skin coloured anywhere from deep brown to light pink and dressed in many colourful garbs passed by, carrying goods from all around the World. The Wit showed the life all around me, from the people who walked and ran to the animals being brought for and around. However as I stood still, looking at the square-sail ships sailing towards me, I felt as alien and as detached from the harbor and its busy life as if I had just come from the stars.

_And you don't suffer from those fake tree things you humans are so fond of, brother mine._

I smiled at Snowcloud scoffing mental voice, and turned towards her, bemused. My wolf-dog was sitting at my side on the Royal Dock of well polished wood, next to the small pagoda with the cream coloured, eave roofs where the carefully arranged selection of delicacies laid untouched. I was supposed to wait for the ship inside the shade but I had grown restless, and so had Snowcloud.

_We went for three years on such one, sister. You didn't have so many problem back then._

A snort came from my companion, who was watching the hoy coming towards us with plain distaste in her blue eyes. _That was a bigger one. This thing is tiny against the water._ She padded towards the water only to jump back with a yelp when a too strong wave hit the wharf. I couldn't help but laugh at her running back with her tails between her legs.

"Well, must be a good day if you laugh so much. Would you tell me why?"

I turned around and smiled back at the woman who looked at me with sparkly blue eyes with a laugh in them from the rim of the hoy. Jek's face showed the lines of a life spent outdoors and her hair had gone all white, but she moved with the grace of a woman twenty years her younger and her laugh was as lively as ever. The sounds of my birth tongue on her lips eased the alien feeling I had so soon before. I gazed at the nimble man who jumped out of the vessel and tied the burly rope to the dock and then bowed deeply at me without meeting my eyes. I nodded back, my face carefully blank and pretended not to notice the heaving of the boardwalk.

"No reason, Jek, save that I am coming home. And you should stop needling High General Kien. The poor men was so distraught that he let his chopsticks fall twice at the banquet yester eve." I retorted, uncrossing my arms and turning to see if Vien was coming. It was strange for him to be late and my eyes swept the place, looking worriedly for my Huan. Jek's laugh distracted me from my search and I turned again towards her, while Snowcloud sniffed at the boardwalk without much enthusiasm.

"He is a widow, Fitz. And I only told him he was not half bad in a veteran way and we could discuss the finer point of maritime and land strategies.. Later in my room" Jek grinned at me, winking and I couldn't help but laugh a little and shake my head.

_The Young One is coming, brother mine._

I turned my head at Snowcloud words and saw Vien walking fast, his black headdress slightly bent over his black hair and his clothes somewhat rumpled. I raised my eyebrows, it was rare for him to be late and rarer still to be untidy. Beside him walked a boy, not tall but carrying himself with ease, dressed in the way of Vietmar with a brown tunic embroidered with golden fishes. His face was unremarkable, and his brown eyes seemed sleepy, but I knew he didn't miss a ball of wool nor a crate of goods. My smile widened and I turned to walk the boardwalk, ignoring as I had to the sailors' deep bows. I felt the wood under my boots and I breathed deeply, compensating for the rolling of the ship over the shallow waters of the harbor.

I met Jek's eyes and gestured with my head to Vien and the other boy. Jek stopped petting Snowcloud, whose muzzle was up the air and eyes half closed in pleasure as our friend scratched her throat, and followed my eyes. Her own widened and a proud smile graced her lips. She watched, an apparent scowl on her face while Vien stopped before embarking to tidy himself up and then, eyes downcast, boarded. I said nothing at all to him, though truth to be told I was neither angry nor annoyed by his delay, more surprised.

Jek went to the other boy, who looked around twenty, though I knew him younger. The boy had stopped on the boardwalk and was watching Jek and me, his head cocked to his side and a small, playful smile to his lip. He watched Jek's approach with a sort of amused wariness, so common in young men in his situation.

"Fizek! Is this the time to come see your mother?" I bite the inside of my mount to keep from smiling, and avoided to look at Snowcloud who was watching the scene with her tail wagging. Vien had took his customary place at my back, slightly to my side. It had felt wrong, and dangerous in the beginning, to have him behind my shoulders, but many years have passed since then.

Fizek smiled at me wryly, and bowed lightly in the way of Clerres. Fizek may be blood of the Six Duchies and the Pirate Kingdom, but his memories are almost all of Clerres. I smiled back and nodded at him, watching with pride the young man I helped raising while he was berated by Jek. He resembled his mother but little, only in his blonde hair and in a certain light in his eyes, his stockier form and muscled arms a heritage of his sailor father.

"I am sorry, mother. Vien and I talked and lost measure of time. I came to wish you well in your journey" He even spoke the language of the Six Duchies with a certain inflection. I glanced at Vien, who was looking at his feet, his hands in the sleeves. I have never discouraged his friendships with Fizek and Chyne, even if I know it is usually frowned upon, for a Huan, to form close bond with others than his Lord, since an Huan is supposed to serve his Lord alone. Still, I had always thought such rules too strict, and never mentioned the bonds I saw forming between the three of them.

Fizek turned to me and grinned again, looking more like his mother than ever, and Snowcloud bolted from my side and, as silent as the clouds she is named after, threw herself at the young man, her second cub, washing his face and wagging her tail while Jek stopped her mock berating and laughed out loud. Fizek echoed her laughter, stroking and petting Snowcloud's fur. My smile widened. For a moment, over the deck of that ship, with people I loved about and the sun kissing my skin and reflecting over the clear water, I felt happy.

Then I uncrossed my arms and walked down the boardwalk, musing on Fizek's dislike for boats and ships. I nodded at the young man, standing over the plank.

"Your mother is right, you should have come before. We will have to sail soon, if we want to be to Fisil by tomorrow evening, Fizek. I wished for more time with you"

The young man, still on his knees in front of Snowcloud, who was trusting her whole weight against him, looked up at me and nodded. Suddenly, I remembered another boy I helped raising and closed my eyes in front of the pain. Hap would be close to fifty now. I breathed against the clenching in my chest and forced a smile to my lips.

"I know, Fitz, but duty called. I have spotted some interesting figures in the accounting of Dockmaster Tan. I think he may be cheating on... Well, I'll give to Dihn and you the complete report. Still, took me all morning to spot it"

Jek, who had walked back to the hoy with the look of the proud mother, snorted and watched the clear blue sky and sighed deeply, putting a hand over her eyes and shaking her head mournfully. She looked down at me, groaning loudly.

"Fitz, we must have done something wrong to grow up a boy so fond of accounting and who can't put a foot on a ship without being seasick. And to say he spent his first four years on one!" Jek looked with mock mourning at Fizek. The young man smiled without reproach: he knew all too well the love both his mother and I had for him. He winked at me and at Vien, and the two exchanged a secret smile.

"And what I remember of those years is mostly nausea. All is well, mother. Fitz, Vien... I'll better leave you to your travel, or my mother will extract a painful revenge on me." His tone and his voice made me smile again, while I remembered many of the years Jek spoke about. I nodded.

"Take care, son" I saluted him, with a last glance at the boy. He smiled and nodded "So I will, My king. Do the same" His formal words and deep bow were belied by the warmth in his voice. He went back to earth with a sigh of relief while I and Snowcloud went back to the ships.

The hoy's hands had pretended to ignore the scene in front of them, not a difficult task since we mostly spoke in the language of the Six Duchies. I put both my hands on the rails, watching without seeing it the amber pagoda on the Royal Dock. I breathed in and felt a chill pass over my body. I blinked.

_Aren't you happy about our cub, brother mine? He is grow. Soon, he will have cubs himself._

I snorted, shocked out of my reverie and lowered my eyes, meeting Snowcloud's blue gaze.

_He still doesn't have a mate, sister. He is but a cub still._ I perceived her amusement, and looked again questioningly. A mental snort meet my enquiries and I shrugged, raising myself while the hoy took the tide and the breeze and left the dock. I turned around to watch Vien who was looking at the hands' work with detached curiosity.

"I need to speak with Jek."

My Huan glanced at me and bowed his understanding, retreating while I walked toward Jek every step heavy, unsure on how to phrase what I needed to tell her.

The King's Ship is a hoy, a little vessel, light and fast and luxurious, made to be comfortable and easy to the eye not for long travel or battle. It is a ship of the like we do in the part of the World I am born into, as unlikely the fishing boats of Clerres as a fine horse is to a donkey, but the carved decorations are entirely of Vietmar: bamboo for prosperity, fishes for wealth, mountains for fortitude. I had used it ever since Sendàr sent me to Waitan, six years before, for my four time a year journey to the mainland of Vietmar. I admit I have grown quite fond of the little ship, with its impeccable crew and able mates. Sometimes, they allow me at the helm and memories of proud ships and a bloody war of so very far away engulf my mind. I nodded at the first mate while I passed be and I noticed the man stand up with pride. I sighed and shocked my head.

"Well, what do you have to tell me?" I blinked again, my amber eyes meeting Jek's hazel ones. The woman smile wryly and cocked her head on the side, so much alike her son to be daunting. I gestured toward the King's quarters, located where usually there would be the captain's quarter, and Jek frowned, nodding again. She followed me in silence, while I marveled at how much we had come to know each other. Strange, that we started in the worst possible way, to end like this.

I opened the door, carved with symbols of birds and my eyes lingered on the shapes. Birds, for love and immortality. I close my eyes and stepped inside the wide cabin with its glass panel, stopping in front of the massive window. The hoy was leaving the dock behind, and the view was of the busy life of the harbor. I barely noticed the room. It was beautiful, as always, with the bed on my left and the deck on my right, and on my feet a Jamilian's rug of gold and silver with intricate designs of dragons and serpents. Jek closed the door and moved around behind my shoulders. I knew not how to speak to her.

Snowcloud leaped behind Jek and threw herself down in a ball in the middle of the carpet, faced to watch the door, muzzle on her front pawns and yawned. She raised one low-tipped ear at me, a sardonic look in her blue eyes. I knew her thoughts well already, without brushing mind with her: I was creating a problem where none was there, and I should only speak to Jek and trust her actions and words to be the right one.

_Exactly. You see, you are learning, Changer. Got you almost two decades while a puppy would need a couple of years or so, granted, but you are learning._

I refused to dignify this statement with an answer.

"Have you eaten at all today?" I turned my head, noticing that somebody, probably Vien, had ordered the hands to leave a tureen of cold soup on the low lacquered table and a covered tray that yielded grilled mixed meat for Snowloud. At the smell, she jumped as a jack-in-the-box from the rug and trotted happily to eat. I shrugged, putting the meat on the ground for Snowcloud's and Jek snickered, sitting cross-legged on the rug and serving two portion of cold soup and motioning for me to come close. I approved of this, best for her to be sit while I told her what I had to. I sat close to her and picked my chopsticks with my right hand and the bowl of delicate, deceptively simple ceramic in the other. I started to eat the sweet and sour cold soup, the noodles as soft and delicates as butterflies. Definitively Vien, for he knew my fondness for sweet and sour's tastes.

"Amber has discovered of me" I said, quietly, looking at the depth of the soup. Onions and chicken slices bobbled on the surface and the smell was spicy and yet now familiar. Odd, how I remember this all so clearly, now. I heard Jek intake of breath and low whistle. She set down her cup, and I dared not to look up from mine to meet her gaze.

"So. Since we have know each other for the best part of seventeen years I won't tell you I told you so" I cringed at her wording and Snowcloud let out a small bark that was a laugh.

_Whose side are you, sister?_ I queried, piqued. _The right one, brother mine. When one is right one is right. And she was right on this track, admit it._

I refused to answer to this, as well. Snowcloud always had a habit to pick Jek's side. Female loyalties, I suppose.

The High Admiral was waiting, eyebrow raised and bowl of soup on her lips. I knew I had no choice thus I told Jek as much as I could about my ambush of the five kings and my need to warm the Prophet up after, about the thurda's root and how I promised to meet him in Fisil come forty days. Less than twenty now. It was a long tale, but we had two days before the King's Ship would dock to Fisil and we spent the first half of the first day with me speaking and Jek listening while Snowcloud's, finished her meal, fell asleep. I watched her hazel eyes and wondered, while I spoke. Jek had followed me to this side of the World, so far away from either the Pirate Kingdom or the Six Duchies to escape her own pain, but she had been loyal and steadfast ever since. I can still remember her dumbfound anger when she learnt that her friend Amber the Bead-Maker was indeed the White Prophet, ailed as close as a god as the people of Clerres can think of. And I remember my words to her, about how us revealing ourselves to her would doom us and her alike. She had relented in the end, but she had told me that if I had see it so in my vision, she could see without any foresight that Amber would discover of us, sooner or later.

It took fourteen years, but time had indeed proved her right. While I watched her, I knew she was thinking as I was about that day so long ago. In the end of my tale I sipped some broth to quench my aching throat and waited. Jek lowered her cup and frowned, chewing on her lips. She looked at me with a look that made me uneasy and to this day I can't place. It was like she was seeing me from very far away, even if I was sitting less than three feet from her. I shifted, uneasy, and Snowcloud shifted in her sleep, touched by my unnamed anxieties.

"You will have to speak to her. And there will be much to tell" She paused, looking at me with an expression that showed all the wisdom of her times. Suddenly, I was reminded that I was close in age to her. And yet, I do not show more than perhaps thirty five years. I look younger now than when my age was truly the one my body shows. For a second, I grasped how fleeting our friendship was, and felt dread. I had once thought that boyhood is the part of life when one thinks himself immortal. Now, facing the years and centuries ahead of me, I know how wrong I was. Boyhood is the age when one doesn't think of time. I have never felt farther from youth than the moment I grasped how many years I have still to live.

"You have changed, Fitz" I raised my gaze from the contemplation of time and looked at her, surprised. I don't know what I was expecting her to say, but it wasn't this. It was too close to my own musing for comfort and my uneasiness returned tenfold. I answered her before I could think.

"I have not."

Again, she didn't speak for a while, glancing to the endless roll of the waves out of the massive windows. I looked at one corner of it, the glassware tinted in shades of greens to better show a maze of leaves. This silence wasn't the easy one of old friend sharing a meal. I knew not what to make of it. Suddenly, the smell of the sweet and sour soup nauseated me. I put my cup down.

"Perhaps you are right. Not changed, then" Jek turned to meet my eyes again and I shifted my weight under her gaze. "You have... expanded, Fitz. In those last fourteen years, I saw you expanding to fill place of yourself that were empty before. It is like you have become what you were always meant to be and never allowed to, by yourself or by other"

Her words didn't mean to further escalated my anxieties, I am sure, but this is what they did. I felt a chill down my spine and my stomach knotted. I shrugged away both feelings, and reached with my hand to caress the sleeping form of my companion while my mind quested for our bond. Her simple dreams of hunt and fire and her warm body reassured me. I breathed and managed a smile.

"Clerres makes prophet of us all" I said, lightly "Still, you are right that I shall have to explain it all. Not to mention the currents among the Waitan's Khams that still oppose to become a part of Clerres and to welcome the White Prophet. Lim claims the biggest clans and the Council of Sisters had agree. It leaves out the smaller ones, though, and one man is enough to kill another".

Jek nodded, pointing her chopstick at my cup. "Finish that" she said, sternly, as I was her Fizek "And you are right about the Khams. There were other skirmishes while you were gone to your merry way up the mountains. El's and Sa's balls, I sometime wonder if they do it for fun. But they mostly want to heard from her lips how she made sure that dragons will fly again in the World. They are positively dying to meet one." Jek's eyes rolled "and you know what "to meet" is synonymous of, in Kham"

I nodded. In Kham, "to meet" and "to fight" are the same word. It tells more about those people that most of Clerres want to know.

Jek was watching my soup's cup pointedly. I finished it meekly. Jek's face bore no accusation, yet I couldn't help but feel guilty when I talked about the Kham's clans who oppose us. Some of them would have be our ally but for my clumsy handling of the whole situation. And some of them aren't wrong to think me a traitor.

"And the Khams' are not your only change in this part of the World. Look at that" She tore me from my reflection again and pointed her chopsticks at a small bag I hadn't noticed before, half-hidden as it was under the low table. It was a simple sack of rough hemp, the kind found everywhere in the World. It was lumpy, and could hold only few ounces of goods, probably a sample from some merchant. I frowned, not understanding why she had brought it here and reached for it. Inside, the contents shifted. Whatever it was, it was made of a great deal of small, oblong parts.

"This is one of the latest, most requested good for import. The people of Tantres and Atremandia are asking for huge quantities of this, Fizek tells me. Apparently, it grows very well in their cold plane away from the rivers, where rice has trouble thriving. Go on, open it."

I did as she requested and I knew even before putting my hand in it what I would have found. The odor brought back to me the day of my childhood, when I watched with Kerry and Dirk and Molly the wagons transporting goods to Buckeep Castle, following them to catch the falling grains, at a time when I could use Nosy's senses as much as mine to feel the World, before Burrich broke both of us from each other and took me away from my childhood.

Wheat.

The grains fell from my palm when I raised my hand and I watched them, slick and hard and good between my fingers as only simple things can be good. Wheat instead of rice in the plain of Atremandia and Tantres. I sat still in the moving ship, listened to the far-away sounds of the King's Ship hands and wondered not for the first time about changes and my role in them.

In two days I would be in Waitan, the island I had secured for Vietmar and Clerres, and where the Khams claimed secrets somewhat pertaining to dragons and humanity laid.

I closed the small bag with care and reached again for Snowcloud's, but her sleeping mind didn't hold more answers than the endless, tin-like sea outside the window.

I glanced at Jek and found her smiling, almost to herself. "Still, it will be good to see Amber again. You speak to her first. Oh, and I forgot. There are some nice reports for you on the desk. Tax and construction reports from Fisil and Silvarin... Have fun!" She raised to her feet, slower than in her youth and winked at me. Despise everything, I smiled back, bemused.

I had long since noticed that all events, no matter how earthshaking or bizarre, are diluted within moments of their occurrence by the continuance of the necessary routines of day-to-day living. The World may change around us, but we still need to grow crops and build houses.

So, with a small sample of grain under the desk, I set myself to learn what had befallen on the land I was Sacrifice for and during my absence, occasionally glancing at the infinite ocean out of the windows.

The next day and half ware spent much in the same way: talking with Jek, playing with Snowcloud and learning what had happened to Waitan while I was away. Not much. Fisil and Silvarin were growing and prospering, the pact between the city folk and the Kham's people of the wild mountain seem to held well, the crops seemed to prosper and the ceremonies for the Seventh Year had put everybody in good spirit. The rivalries weren't above the usual, even if one of the Houses who came from Liantharin would bear watching, nor the tensions between the cities and the cities and the Khams. The people from both Fisil and Silvarin were happy of the possibilities of a White Road between their homes and happier still of welcoming the White Prophet himself. Chyne had wrote that she had found a total of ten possibly Skilled people, and she was training them to form the first coterie of Vietmar, but none among the noble houses as for now.

Vien taught me everything I would need to know to welcome the White Prophet to Waitan. There was only one accounting of a land becoming a part of Clerres in recorded history, and the records of Clerres go far indeed: Malach, whose heir, Prince Awag, had fallen to my axe. Our first words to each other after so long a time would be rehearsed and part of a rite, but there was no choice in the matter, and as such I left it at that. While Snowclouds barked at the birds so common on the canal between Waitan and Vietmar and playfully pretended to hunt them, I rehearsed again and again the moves and the words, till Vien was satisfied I had learnt them well. More than once I glanced at my happy companion, and envied her freedom while I stood in the shady cabin and repeated my lessons.

It was a quiet time, quieter than my time on the White Road still I was impatient for it to end. When it did, yet, I found myself wished it never had. Every day brought me closer to my reckoning, and as such I dreaded it, but it also took me nearer to a time with my dearest friend and so I welcomed it. So is the heart of men, and mine is no different from the other members of my race.

 

 

 

**VIEN**

  
**  
**

By: [Yamiswift](http://yamiswift.deviantart.com/)


	3. Amber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that many would be put off by the this part of the story but thank you to all who stayed in for the ride :D  
> I hope you are enjoying it still :)
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to Carlile and Sand Dun, my betas! :D And to Andromeda-Aries, whose words spur me into writing :)

** Chapter Three: Amber **

 

_How the_ _Daman Vua, the Barbarian King,came to his name and title is a matter of much conjecture in all the land of Clerres. Certainly he wasn't born in the White Land and was a barbarian in all ways and customs. Yet people who had met him when he didn't even know the tongue of Clerres claim that he had already such a familiarity with the White Prophets and their Prophecies and Wisdom to astonish many of the monks of the White Inns. He took the name of Xhanhà Doi_ _Chihn as soon as he came to Dushanbe and as such his origin can only be surmised. Various stories have arisen. One is that he is in truth the spirit of an ancient King of Vietmar, born in the wrong place by the confusion that the Times of Changes always bring on us, and that he came back to his rightful legacy when King Thàn Ba Sendàr recognized this and restored him as his Brother as he had to. Another affirms that he is nothing but a adventurer with the luck of one. Another still that he was a lost child of our lands, found by barbarian in a shipwreck and took back to us by Fate. Many of those can be diminish as_ _creations of fancy._ _We have no real knowledge of King Chihn's life before his arrival at King Sendàr's court._

_In the matter of the Daman Vua, that which we do not know is almost more significant than that which we do. Most important perhaps is the new magic he brought with him, the Skill. During the battle of Thang Log it proved to be so effective against the demons evoked by the Iduyans' shamans that he was able, alone, to turn the sort of the combat, earning to King Chihn the title of Demonsbane._

_Reflections on the Barbarian King, Archivist of Stronglord Arjun of Thentres_

 

I tried concentrating on the figures Citymaster Lang was showing me, ignoring the constant hammering and shouting from outside. I frowned, perceiving the beginning of an headache and wished for Fizek to be here for surely he would be able to spot any strange "mistake" at a glance. Yet, my adopted son had elected to stay in Dushanbe, and I could not fault him. The Construction of the Royal Palace of Fisil had begun four years ago, and it was likely to go on for at least other two. The fact that I insisted on changing the squads of laborers every six moons didn't help, but it did assure me that no one would easily know the map of the whole palace.

I raised my head to watch the Liantharin square in the eyes.

Citymaster Lang was a short, plump man dressed in the common, flowing silk cassock so common in Liantharin. He was one of the many refugees of Liansa, escaped the city with his family and what he could carry with him when the Iduyans' demons invaded. To this day, as far as I know, the once proud capital of Liantharin is nothing but ruin, infested by creatures blessedly beyond the imagination of most men.

The Liantharian did not flinch away when he met my gaze as others do. Liantharian can meet the gaze of their Emperor, even if they have to avoid the Shining Empress' eyes. He nodded slowly, tapping with his long-nailed fingers on the table inlaid with amber where we were sat and where two mugs of tea and small plates with sweets, all in a ceramic more exquisite than anything that I ever saw as a boy, were carefully lay out.

"I notice; you notice, my King" I had to concentrate to understand him. I speak the language of Liantharin, but not well at all, and Citymaster Lang is not very fluent in Vietmar. The merchant took a piece of candied ginger. I noticed the motion with the corner of my eyes, still observing the figures. I always made sure to have some of those when he came to report to me, once a moon. I learnt long ago that small gestures go a long way to earn a man loyalty. I disregarded the food, the smells of construction, a mixture of powdered lie and wood and broken stone, mixed with the scents of fare was enough to nauseate me.

"Quite so." I paused, watching the sheet of fine paper with the carefully penned ideograms. The numbers were wrong. Not the results, but the number themselves were not compatible with a trade in spices. They were too complete, too round for a materials that is rather precious and small. I turned my head to watch the blue sky out of the window above us, then moved again to regard the Citymaster. I smiled at him and I noticed the ease in the tension at the corners of his eyes.

I sighed.

"Anything else, Citymaster?"

The Liantharinan pursued his lips and exhaled. "There had been some... trouble, my liege." I smiled grimly. "The same band of youngster had been creating... disturbance inside the city. They had been found by the militia, and punished. But one of them is Suen Ghuozi, and I fear his father may come to protest. The details on it are on the cartes I gave you" I nodded. This was nothing new.

"I thank you to have pointed this to me, Citymaster. Be sure I shall watch into it" I promised, gravely. Lang nodded and raised to his feet, his hands in the sleeves. He bowed deeply to me.

"May you always have long life and prosperity, King Chihn" He said, and my smile grew warmer at the sincerity in his voice. I nodded at him, and took away my gaze while he walked backwards out of the room.

Silence grew, if an absence of talk punctuated by sounds of hammer and voices from the outside can be called silence.

Vien sat next to me and took the papers, studying them carefully. I let him, sipping the warm tea to settle my stomach and waiting for his words. He looked perplexed. I turned my head toward him, and explained, slowly, as much to myself as to him.

"House Suen is either very tidy, and order spices in ways I never saw before, or they are not selling spices at all. The numbers can't be corrected."

I saw light come into his eyes for a second. Then his delicate feature frozen and he spoke, carefully "Even more so, we know the Head of the Suen Family, Suen Baojia, to be a Kuan's Loyalist, though how he can be so I cannot fathom" I acknowledged this with a gesture of the head. I passed my hand behind my neck. I can't get used to sit on the ground, as they do in Clerres. My muscles were getting stiff. I would need more aconite to massage them, my provision was almost finished.

"The White Prophet has only said that Li-Hua is the Shining Heir, yet she can't reign till she becomes an adult, two years from now. Till then, Kuan could have a right to claim himself ruler in his daughter's stead. Emperor Cong may have exaggerated his son proclivity for treason and as such created with his rash action a division in Liantharin, from which we all suffer" I caught Vien's gaze and smiled wryly, raising on my feet "I do not say that it is so, merely that it could be. When you spring to an idea, and decide it is truth, without evidence, you blind yourself to other possibilities. Consider them all, Vien. Maybe it is not Kuan, but Cong to desire the throne for himself."

"You don’t believe this" My Huan watched me dubiously, a puzzled frown on his face.

“No. I don’t. Because I have no evidence to declare it truth. Just as I have no evidence to say otherwise" I flinched when a peculiar loud crash came from outside and both Vien and I glanced towards the window.

_Brother mine, I'll be happy when this will be ended. This noise grate on me._

I sent to Snowcloud a silent agreement. I perceived vaguely she was outside, playing with the children of the workmen. I turned towards Vien, who seemed thoughtful. When he spoke, he did so with great care.

"In this light, the Vietmar's position of support the Shining Heir Li-Hua directly, instead than Emperor Cong is... an interesting course" I glanced at Vien, but his speculative expression gave away little. I nodded, wrinkling my nose at the smell of powdered line and fresh paint. The whole castle smells just as new as it is.

"And I have no evidence against Suen Baojia... Nothing beyond that he is very bad at accounting" I brought the discourse back to the matter at hand and pursued my lips, frowning and trying to block out scents and sounds of construction, my eyes fixed on the walls, covered in simple yet fine wood.

_Sister, bring Gao up as soon as you can. I need to speak with him. Make sure no one sees or hears you._

_As if a human could catch me when I wish not to be seen, brother mine! But I'll bring him to you._ I perceived Snowcloud's scoffing assent and retired from her mind while she approached the person I had asked her to fetch for me. I turned towards the Huan.

"Vien, go and ask to the master mason about the progress. I want to be sure the castle will be presentable for the White Prophet's visit. And talk with Stablemaster Ji about Siunei. I think that mare may have some problem with her first foal. It is from Toiden, and I don't want to lose it". The young man regarded me with a look that told me exactly how much he had believed me but bowed and left, his displeasure clearly shown in the quick disappearing of the light brown hem of his cassock.

I walked towards the window, an almost perfect circle, and stared at the view. Fisil's Royal Castle had been called the Amber Castle since before its construction. The recently discovered amber mines are propriety of the Crown and, together with the fertile fields on both corners of the island, form a great part of Waitan's richness. Amber is the jewel associated with Vietmar, and it had been used extensively to furnish the parts of the castle already in use. The Amber Castle is on a headland, the highest of the two of the Fisil's bay, with the sea on three sides and a steep path on the fourth. A part of the castle is carved in the very rock of the cape itself and the material extracted used for the rest of the building. The result is that the fort looks like it had been born from the land itself rather that created from men's hands. I admit freely that I quite like it. The city of Fisil itself lay at the base of the promontory, not 70 feet from where I was as the crows fly, but more than 300 as the stone drops. Fisil clings to the rocky black cliffs much like limpets and barnacles cling to the pilings and quays that venture out into the bay. The houses are of stone and wood, with the more elaborate wooden ones built higher up the rocky face and cut more deeply into it. The town is as much in building as the castle itself, and from where I stand I could see it bursting with activities. I put my hands on the window sill and gazed beyond it, towards the fields on my left and the strip of dark green that was the jungle. The brackish smell of iodine filled my nose and the keening of the gulls and seabirds was an eerie melody above the rhythmic shushing of the waves. I let my Wit awareness tinge my perceptions, the paths of the birds and the movements of men and the trails of the animals creating complex patterns at the limit of my consciousness. One in particular stood up among them.

I turned my head towards the door of my study and glanced at the low table. Yes, there seem to be enough food still. I touched the kettle of the purest white ceramic. Lukewarm. It would have to go.

"Come in, boy".

I called, and for a second there was no answer. Then the door opened a fraction of an inch and Snowcloud burst inside. In a matter of seconds I had her front pawns on my chest and she was washing my face thoroughly. I sputtered, trying to stop her with very little luck. When I succeed to convince 160 pounds of wolf-dog to leave me alone, I noticed Gao.

The child was looking studiously at his bare feet, stealing glances at the table. I sighed and scratched Snowcloud's ears.

_The cub is still weary of the leader of the pack, brother mine. Understandable, I would say. But he has sharp teeth and claws. He will grow up to be a fine hunter._

I smiled at Snowcloud and then at Gao, gesturing towards the table.

"Sit down, boy, and eat" The child did not need to be told twice as he was in an age where a boy is always hungry. I observed him while he ate, noticing his improved manner with appreciation. Kim-Ly was doing a good job with him. Gao is an orphan, child of two Liantharin immigrant not as lucky as others. He is around nine years old, normal in weight and height, with hair the colour of mahogany and eyes between blue and green. He attempted to pickpocket me while I was visiting the docks two years afore, not knowing I was the king. He was good enough to take away my purse, but not good enough to escape Snowcloud's notice whilst doing so. I took him up bodily and hauled him to the Amber Castle. Thinking back, it wasn't the wisest of kindest thing to do, for I surely scared the poor child out of his wits. But he had not parents nor relatives to take care of him, and had a quick mind and a quick hand. I gave him to Kim-Ly, who takes care that all that the castle needs came to it, from food for the kitchens to the wood for the constructions. I had discovered soon later that he had the Wit, or, as they call in Wa'tan, the Siòng. So I told Kau to train him in it, for any who was not Khams with the Wit was a further plank in the bridge between Waitan and Clerres. And in my spare time, I taught him how to be my spy.

He was taller than last time I saw him, and he looked healthy, I decided at last. I stood silent, letting the child eat his fill from what was left from my meeting with Citymaster Lang. At last, he raised his eyes and looked at me, lowering the bowl once filled with sweet soup. He waited, head cooked to the side.

Snowcloud sat on her haunches to his right, watching with maternal pride the child. Gao grinned, showing teeth too big for his child mouth, and scratched her throat.

"How are your studies going?" I asked, sitting on the table myself. Gao chewed on his lower lip, still petting Snowcloud.

"Well enough, my King. I am studying geography now. Waitan's geography. I went with the last check of the White Road for that" He winked at me, and I nodded, pouring myself some lukewarm tea and waiting. "Nothing to report. Lim and Kau's tribe and their allies are keeping the other Kham's clans away. The White Inns are ready. People in Silvarin are happy to welcome the White Prophet" He lowered his head speaking of my friend. I still can't bring myself to do that. I reflected that I doubted my friend would want it, in any case.

_He doesn't seem the kind to enjoy all those tails between people legs when his pack speaks to him, Changer. He is not the leader of the pack, nor he wishes to be._

I glanced at Snowcloud, wondering how she had understood my friend so well in so little a time. A spark of amusement shone in her blue eyes, but she offered no comments on my half-formed though. Resolutely, I concentrated back on Gao.

The child reported some more to me. Who in the castle had done what, from babies being born to guardsmen picking fight with laborers. That would need watching. After ten minutes, Gao ended his report and waited, silent.

"Do you know House Suen, boy?" I saw him knitting his brown, scratching Snowcloud between her ears and earning much tail wagging from her.

"Big house, still in building, the other side of the town in front of the Green Harbour? Got a carved lion on the gate?"

“That’s the one,” I replied emphatically. "Good. You know the place. Now, here’s your task. You must learn as much as possible about their trade. What they commerce in and where they take their goods, who is the intermediary, both here and in the mainland... In short, everything. You understand?"

I watched Gao while he listened to my words eagerly. He nodded promptly. There would be no need to tell him that he must learn the truth, not what the Suen family passed for it. He knew already. In the end Gao jumped on his feet and grinned at me, bowing deeply.

"It will be done, my King!" I felt a twinge of something worse than pain in my chest seeing the enthusiasm in the boy's eyes and I wondered again if so had Chade felt in training me. I nodded slowly, turning my gaze to the sky out of the window not to let Gao's read my emotion in it. The child choose to take it for a dismissal I suspect, because soon after I heard the sound of bare feet running down the hallway. I tried to breath around the constriction on my chest when I felt the touch of Snowcloud's humid nose on my cheek and her soothing presence in my mind. I closed my eyes.

_He will never be an assassin, sister. I shan't allow it. If Suen Baojia or someone else needs killing, I'll see to it myself. As I did other times. I am not teaching him how to kill._

Her mind touch was quiet and her nose humid against my cheek. I heard her words, quietly spoken between the link we shared.

_Changer, we both know it. All must learn to kill._

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, standing up. I looked at Snowcloud, feeling the difference between us. I breathed heavily. _I shall kill if necessary, Sister._

Before Snowcloud could answer me I perceived Vien returning. I turned my head towards the door. My Huan closed the door behind him and bowed, his face stayed resolutely blank.

"Stablemaster Ji says that he is taking special care of the mare you mentioned, my liege. The Master Mason says that they will leave the mayor rooms today, in the evening. Tomorrow the cleansing will start "

His voice was carefully neutral, too. I nodded slowly and sighed. Ten days had passed since I had sailed from Dushanbe and the preparation for the arrival of the White Prophet were nothing short of hectic. I watched out the window. My friend would enter Dushanbe more or less now. Five days and he would be here.

He had been remarkably hasty in his coming, people said. Speculations arose wildly in all Clerres around the reason. I wondered if my private friend liked that level of interest in every one of his action. I doubted it.

I rubbed my forehead and stared at the amber decoration on the table. The World didn't stop to allow me the time to prepare for his arrival at my leisure. I still had to care for all that befell on Waitan. I had not had the time to do more than a brief excursion in the Jungle, and had not been able to meet any of the Kham people. I would have to trust the news I had received by their runners on their willingness to meet the White Prophet.

Vien stood silent as a statue, studying me carefully. I breathed deeply the sea air and exhaled, walking again towards the window and gazing at the ocean again.

In five days I would meet him again.

And I would have to explain. 

 

 

 

** THE AMBER CASTLE **

** **

Commissioned by me to [Albinonial of DeviantArt.](http://albinonial.deviantart.com/)  



	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ! SINCE THIS CHAPTER IS VERY SHORT, I'LL POST ANOTHER CHAPTER TOMORROW!
> 
> Don't get used to it, though :P It is only because this is by far the shortest chapter I have written till now.
> 
> As always, many thanks to Sand Dun and Carlile, my wonderful beta. And to Andromeda-Aires, her comments make me keep writing :*

**_ Interlude _ **

_The cave is dimly lit by a fire._

_It is small cave, not much bigger ten paces of a tall man, and a small fire, just enough to keep the cave from freezing and to give depth to the shadows._

_Over the fire a, small cauldron of leather is boiling water ad meat and vegetables._

_In a corner, a bundle of furs is arranged, leather old and worn but carefully kept. It is in the warmest part of the cave, close to the fire and away from its mouth._

_On a rough wooden rake – made by tying stripped branches with tendons, – there are two small lances, one with a point of flint that glitters in the fire, and one with a point of sharpened bone._

_In the furthest end of the cave, an end made by small hands that broke into the permafrost, in the dark and cold, there are slabs of frozen meat and vegetables and nuts and grains, cautiously stored out of reach of vermin._

_Close to mouth of the cave are piled stocks of wood and kindle, divided by kind and use, together with reeds and grasses to weave baskets and nodules of flint to make coarse cutters._

_By the fire sit two children, huddled together under the cured fur of a megaloceros so that only their heads and their hands come out of it. The heads and the hands of the first child are white,  just like the snow falling out of the cave's mouth – a crack barely big enough for a man to pass through. The head of the second child is the colour of straw, and his hands are small, strong and still tanned by the summer sun to a soft brown._

_The blond child’s brow furrows in concentration. has a stick in hand and is trying to copy a symbol on the hard-packed ground, stealing frequent glances at the similar one beside it already carved in it. In the end, two signs, one rough and one sleek, can be seen by the firelight._

_"And this means ‘dhil'a’?" The voice of the blonde child is tentative while he stares at the symbol he has made, and what his companion has made. He touches it, following the lines carefully, like he still can't quite comprehend._

_The white child nods, pleased, and his slimmer hand reaches out to stroke the other child's._

_"Yes. This means us, together. See? Two that makes one. Separated yet united." The white child's tone in speaking is hesitant and lilted, like he is used to a more fluid language._

_The blond child frowns again and watches the white one, uncomprehending, watches their two hands, one over the other. He snatches his out from under the pale one and keeps his head low, looking at his lap._

_The white child waits, glancing between supper and his companion._

_"No one wants to be one with me. I am wrongborn."_

_The blond child’s words are slow and pained and a gulp hides the sob fighting to escape._

_The white child shrugs, like that is of no consequence, and rises gracefully to his feet, a fluid, sleek motion, not unlike water. He gives a critical look at the stew bubbling in the leather cauldron. He takes a bone from his belt and stirs the dense soup with it. His clothes are of roughly cut leather, a long-sleeved tunic and trousers, but new and soft, from a young animal, with fur on the inside to trap warmth._

_"I don't think you are, Flint. But be as it may, it matters not." The pale child brandishes the bone like a scepter toward the tanned child. "There are three kinds of relationships. The ones that start at birth, and as such relate with your family, and the ones that start after birth, and so you relate with your friends." The colorless child licks the bone and looks critically at the supper. "Do we have some more salt?"_

_Flint blinks and shakes his head. "There isn't much left, Vanyel. It is... hard to come by, here." The reply seems to cost the child something, a cloud shadow the gray-blueness of his eyes when the white child sighs and nods "And you have listed two kinds of relationships."_

_The white child grins and nods again, pleased, licking the bone another time._

_"Then there is the one that starts before birth. That is Dhil'a. We were paired afore your birth, and afore mine, too. So it doesn't matter how you are born, if wrong or right or in between, for we came before that." The ashen child brandishes the bone at Flint again, tapping him on the head, a gentle touch with no pain. "Stands to reason."._

_The fair-haired child seems to think on it, an intense expression on his juvenile features. He breathes slowly and expands and contracts his fingers.  After some seconds, he stands, looks at the soup and then at Vanyel. The pale child’s eyes are without colour, or so they seem in the flickering light of the fire, only the pupils visible. They regard the tanned child, and are as inscrutable as the storm outside._

_"I think the stew is ready." Flint's voice is tentative, shy. The colorless child nods and goes to a neat, little pile of woven baskets and wooden objects and retrieves two bowls, the brims and outer sides of which are uneven, but sanded to smoothness. When he comes back to the fire, Flint partitions dinner equally. Once Vanyel's bowl is full, before filling his own, Flint adds two pinches of white powder to it, and the white child’s face beams with pleasure._

_They eat in silence, sitting close to share companionship and warmth, watching the fire and listening to the storm outside._

_In the cave, the meal is ended.. The white child sits huddled under the rough furs in the bare cave, and watches the storm, a faraway expression on his little face. The tanned child comes back, bowls cleansed and put away, and looks at his only companion, watches how the fire plays on his childish features notes how he bites his lip when he’s worried, and notices the small, ashen hand clutching the precious stone that hangs from the pale neck, a fine object (opal on gold and silver, though he has no names for them, yet) that the blond child has never seen before._

_The fair-haired child holds the pale one close to him and kisses his cheek shyly. "Dhil'a, don't be sad. I am with you," Flint says, quiet and awkward as children are in their earnest, looking at his bare feet. Vanyel closes his eyes and smiles, turning his head toward the tanned child and pressing his brow to Flint's._

_The storm still rages outside the small cavern, but in a quiet moment between two blasts of wind, a clear voice, speaking with the hesitance of the foreign is heard, if only by the snow falling outside._

_"I'll sing you to sleep, Flint."_

 

  
** VANYEL **

** **

**  
By[Kalvedia](http://kalvedia.deviantart.com/)**


	5. Sunflower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second chapter of this week. :) The same disclaimer as always :D Carlile and Sand Dun are my amazing beta and Andromeda-Aires makes me keep writing <3
> 
> If anybody of you could find time to comment, I would greatly appreciate it :)

** Chapter Four: Sunflower **

 

_The Khams are the native of the island of Waitan, that they call Wa'tan. Despite the geographical proximity to the mainland, they had never been a part of Clerres. This is not due of lack of efforts by Kings and Queens of Vietmar, who have tried to colonize the island on various occasions the first recorded by Kings Than and Hao 1,200 years ago. Such attempts have yielded nothing, not even a fishing outpost. The Khams "extreme" attitude has been the reason for much of it: Khams have always "viciously" attacked peaceful Vietmar settlers for no reason, at least according to Vietmar records. That they could consider the presence of outsiders came with the evident intention of settling on their lands a threat apparently never crossed the minds of historians. Yet there is a grain of truth in their words, because Khams have always strike out with an incredible force, killing every last person in the tentative villages, up to the smallest children. The few survivors, often such by sheer chance, told tale of cannibalism. Attempts of more military invasions met a similar fate. After a thousand year of effort, Vietmar renounced claims on Waitan, and left the island alone._

_I affirm now that all the tales told over the Khams are true. They are tribal, and as proud of their ways as Clerres' of theirs. They do not farm crops nor they breed cattle. They practice cannibalism. They are led by beasts. Yet one would be mistaken in believing them to be more barbaric or savage than other people. They are not. The critical, essential element to make sense of all Kham's behavior and customs is: they count people as no more nor less than beast. The use of the Wit, or, as they call it, the Siòng, among the Khams is as widespread as the use of Skill among the Elderlings and it had breed a society that makes no distinction between species, so much that the beasts that command them are mixed being, humans and animals at once. A puppy life has as much value as the one of a child. A tiger has as much right to feed on them than they on her. The flesh of human is no different than the flesh of deer. An ox can't be put under the yolk more than a man could._

_When the colonists came from Vietmar, the Khams were as aghast from what they saw as a vicious treatment of the animals as the immigrants were of their perceived savagery towards people._

_The only difference between me and the Kings of old is that I, too, possess the Wit, though I am far less schooled in its finer points than even a Kham youngster is. As such, I was able to learn and, in time, to compromise between their habits and the customs of Vietmar. The process wasn't painless, nor without mistakes on my part, some of them grievous ones. Despite what is commonly believed in Clerres, I did not "conquer" the Khams. Their choice to enter Clerres is just that: their choice. The peculiar agreement pledged between the Crown of Vietmar and the Kham is nothing but a proof of what I assert._

_When Sendàr sent me to Waitan, I believe he thought he was sending me to my death. My hard-won success in that land was the final straw on our agreement._

 

I have often contemplated time. It may be so because I am Catalyst, and as such my life is tangled to my time in such deep knots I sometime despair of extricating myself from them. Still, what man hasn't noticed how far time pass during the happiest hours, and how it lags and drags when he least desires it? I know a month of torture can last years, and an hour in the arms of the woman you love less than a minute. Such knowledge is, after all, hardly rare.

So it should come to no surprise that the five days that separated me from my second meeting with my friend seemed eternal, yet pass they did, and one morning I awoke and Vien was at the side of the bed, already impeccably dressed and ready to prepare me for the day ahead.

I stiffed a groan and sat on the bed, passing my finger in my hair and looking out of the window. The sun was still far from breaching the horizon, the ocean as dark as the sky above and just as filled with stars. Right now, I remembered, the White Prophet were on the King's Ship, making the last miles toward Fisil. Perhaps he too had just been awoken. I tried to recall the plans for the day ahead, so carefully penned by people more knowledgeable than me in the ways of Clerres. But my mind was still foggy. I had practiced calligraphy to exhaustion the evening before, and almost fell asleep on my desk. It is a pass time I have learnt to enjoy in my time in Vietmar, as it unites my liking for writing and my interest in inks, and it is relaxing and pleasant. I stood up from the bed and unthinkingly took the robe my Huan gave me. I walked towards the steaming bath, set in the dedicated room to begin grooming.

Snowcloud sent me a drowsy greeting, and curled close to sleep some more.

After five days when time passed as sluggish as the mud flows in the street of Fisil during the monsoon, the last few hours traveled as fast as lighting itself. The only moment of relative pause I had was when I argued with Vien over the choice of clothing. White is sacred in Clerres, and, while pure white is for the White Prophet alone, all the kings, nobles and rules of this land favor light colours. But the clothes I had ordered for that day were in black and gold. A watered silk black short tunic, almost a doublet, that seemed to have all the shade of the night. A pair of loose black trouser of the same motif. Both had embroiders in gold on the hem, designed by me, of dragons and wolves and symbols that I, alone, knew the meaning of. A high gold sash with pearls of amber on my waist. The cut was of Vietmar, and royal if peculiar, but the colours and motif were not. I do not know why I choose them, aside from a whimsical desire to distinguish myself from the Clerres' nobles that despise me. I won the argument, not lastly because they were the only garments fitted to be wear for the occasion, but I had to suffer my Huan to braid my hair with the gold and amber coronet that in Vietmar only the King can carry and to shave me. I still don't have the patience for it, but Vien is quite adamant about me going unshaven.

I fretted during the whole preparation, and barely contained my irritation at Snowcloud's good humor while she was washed and groomed herself by Gao. The child looked at me with wide eyes, stopping his working on Snowcloud coats when I entered the room and nodded in his direction. I glanced at the lad, memories of a boy following his future king to the road to Rippon flashing in my mind. I tore my eyes from him, and looked at Snowcloud. She was sitting in the middle of a basin full of warm, soapy water and she had the contented look that only satisfied dogs can show off so well. Still, I felt a pang of remorse that somebody else was catering to her.

 _This should be my duty, Sister. I am sorry to..._ My thoughts to her were interrupted before I could finish them.

_Nonsense brother. You don't have enough patience to groom yourself, let alone to give my coat all the care it deserve. You'll see. I'll sparkle today. The Scentless One has such a soft fur, I do not wish to look mangy in comparison._

She closed her eyes in bliss while Gao passed his brushes on the back of her skull and between her ears and then washed her with clean water. I couldn't help but smile at her vanity. I left the room,

The next couple of hours are a blur. I think I ate something around the time the sun raised from the ocean, the moment when my friend would set food on Waitan. The street of Fisil were sparkling clean, and all the notables would be on the first line on the route he would walk through. I wondered if he would like my city, or would he thought it too unformed, still in the making? It lacked of the shine, the perfection he so treasured as it was young and not yet completed.

There was not much left to do and, sooner than I wished, I found myself standing in the end of the Great Stairway in the main hall of the Amber Castle. I know very little about the complex system of elements that dominates Clerres' architecture. I have been told that the Amber Castle is set in a good place, since he is on Water, carved in Earth and close to the Air. The only Element missing is Fire, and as such much of the decoration is in amber, or gold, and the lacquers are in red or yellow, since those are the colours of Flame. The main hall is decorated in all the shades of warm yellow, and the stairway I was at the top of was literary covered by amber plates. I watched the many colours shift while the sun touched them. The hall still smelled new, of clean wood and paints, but not a speck of dust could be found anywhere.

Snowcloud joined me in my waiting. Save for her, I was unaccompanied. The White Prophet had to enter in the castle alone, and the main hall had to be empty. From outside, Vien would announced my coming. Then I would have to descend the staircase and welcome him to the Amber Castle and Waitan. I had rehearsed the words many time, and I did it again and again in my mind, while I listened to the crowd outside.

_Stop thinking that, brother mine. You are giving me an headache, repeating the same again and again. So boring._

I had to smile at Snowcloud. I glanced at her, perfectly clean and with a silver collar. I detest it, but she thinks it makes her looks even more fetching.

I was about to answer, but renounced. Her ears, by far sharper than mine, noticed the smallest difference in sound. The noise outside and the silence inside created a disconcerting contrast. I felt like holding my breath even while my heart beat faster.

Snowcloud yawned and blinked sleepily.

_I could have slept some more. You, too. You look like you went hunting for three night square. And you don't have to worry about the Big Cat in the Jungle, there is hardly enough meat on you to feed a cub._

I glared at her, temporarily forgetting where I was.

_I slept well tonight. And I am strong enough to hunt and fight, sister. Care to remember who flushed out the serow at our last hunt?_

She squatted her ears on her head. She didn't like to be reminded of her fluke in that hunt.

_Purest chance, Changer. Next time you will..._

**"KING XANHA' DOI CHIHN!"**

Vien's calling startled me, but Snowcloud merely raised on four pawns. I had not time to spare to be indignant about her deceit. I heard the bronze, massive main doors open, and I knew my friend was stepping through them, leaving the multitude behind. The staircase seemed to shift in front of my sight, so much I wondered if one can get drunk without noticing and without alcohol.

I started to walk and turned around the curve that would make me visible. I forced myself to raise my eyes and fixed my gaze on my Fool.

His clothes were akin the one he wore on the Behit Mountains. White tunics and breeches, a white sash. But he had embroidered wooden beads in all the colour of wood from the fair maple to the dark ebony over the paleness. His own skin looked like bronze in the glow of morning, and even richer against the basic whiteness of the garments. His airy, sleek hair, the colour of walnut wood, was bound with two braids that went from his temple to his nape while the rest of it flowed freely on his slim shoulders. He looked out of this world, a creature of burnished gold and light.

I saw this all in a matter of instants, less than the space between the first and the second half of my heartbeat. Something expanded in the darkness behind my eyes and golden threads danced in my mind, forming a symbol that was word and idea. At the next blink of my eyelids, it was gone.

_Dhil'a._

Then his dark auburn eyes met mine. There have been very few times in my life when I have been able to shock the Fool into silence. That was one of them. He stared at me, his eyes getting wider and wider. While I descended the staircase, without seeing nor perceiving the steps under my feet, I saw them darting around, searching for King Chihn. But we were alone in the huge hall. His face was frozen in a mask of astonishment, and gone gray under his colouring to a point I was worried he would faint again. His lips were slightly parted. He was so astounded that he didn't even try to cover his expression. His gaze betrayed nothing but pure shock. I felt a pang of guilt at being the cause for it, for no reason I could, or can, name. Odd, how now I can recall no sight but the one of his face and no sound but my own heartbeat. Even my Wit sense was silent as, blessedly, was Snowcloud.

I almost stumble on the last step and caught myself just in time to avoid falling as Vanyel had in front of Flint at their first meeting. But something in my clumsy movement broke him out of his reverie. He snapped back, straightening his shoulders and glaring at me. I gulped down a mouthful of air and bowed in the correct angle that Vien had spent hours to teach me.

"In the name of the island of Waitan I" I hesitated a little "I, King Xanhà Doi Chihn welcom..."

"Fitz."

His voice was slow. There was no treat, not even anger in it. It was just an statement, still it chilled me to the bone. The rehearsed words fled from my mind. My lips were parched. We didn't have much time. I raised myself from the bowing position, without his leave, and meet his eyes squarely. He watched me with an intense, almost predatory expression. His face was quiet, but that had no bearing on his anger, this I knew well. He breathed in, slowly and put his slim hands inside the sleeves with a movement so deliberate it looked painful.

I licked my lips, trying to moisturize them. Something between anger and panic gripped me. I felt my neck and back tense, the old reflex to attack with words or actions raising with each beat of my heart. I squared my shoulder unconsciously. Snowcloud leaned her weight on my leg. I breathed it down, and my cheeks burned with shame at the thought that I had wanted to assail him. I lowered my eyes.

He kept looking at me with a remarkable lack of expression. His dark brown eyes had lost focus. He looked like somebody who is rearranging the pieces of a puzzle in his mind, frenetically moving them around until some connection could be found. I stood silent, waiting, like a man in front of a judge, thought I couldn't name my crime if I tried.

He bowed a little back to me. His voice was strangled and slow but still seemed somewhat breathless when at least he spoke. I steadied myself against his words.

"King Xanhà Doi Chihn of Vietmar, may the Future brings thee prosperity and riches. I came to walk on thy land with thy leave"

I blinked. Those were the ritual words that had been drilled into me, his official answer to my ceremonial welcome. I was caught off guard and I looked at him uncomprehending, searching for any clue on his face and posture, for a sign of what he was thinking. I found none. All I could see was a mask of serenity, the same I had seen for all the days I went to see my friend, one face in a crowd around his palanquin. I went to see my friend, yet I never found him. All I ever saw was the White Prophet.

_In truth, as thee walkest the path of Wisdom no land is beyond thy reach..._

Snowcloud's mind voice was mildly bored.

_What...?_

_Brother mine, you repeated it so many times that the very stones of the keep know it. You kept me awake at night with those words! Repeat after me, like a good cub repeat the moves of the hunter of the pack: In truth, as thee walkest the path of Wisdom, no land is beyond thy reach..._

"In truth, as thee walkest the path of Wisdom, no land is beyond thy reach..." I said, my voice shaky.

_And thee bringest a bright Future for us all. My heart is your heart, my fire is your fire. Come and be welcome, Prophet._

"And thee bringest a bright Future for us all. My heart is your heart, my fire is your fire. Come and be welcome, Prophet"

He averted his eyes for a moment at my words. He nodded slowly and for a second I thought he was going to say something more, something that wasn't rite and custom. But the great doors opened again, and the crowd swarmed around us. I watched the people coming in. Notables and people of the Castle, all of them know to me. Still, in that moment I hated them. I breathed and took a step backward, and gesture stiffly, as I had to, for the White Prophet to walk in front of me. The Prophet inclined his head and complied.

 _Thank you, Sister_. I felt Snowcloud's amusement. She regarded the Prophet critically, then she looked around and snorted. I could feel in her mind her plotting to escape the too-crowded place.

I couldn't escape from my crowded mind.

The rest of the ceremonial gathering was eerie and customary at the same time. There were formal presentation, much bowing and eyes-avoiding. The White Prophet noticed none of them. His lofty expression gave away nothing, his brown eyes deep and clear as burnished glass, and as inscrutable. I went thru the motion I had learnt, blessing all the while Vien for his thoroughness. I can recall very little of it. I effortlessly took my place at the White Prophet right, and guided him in the Castle. Snowcloud was mostly at my heel, and I was grateful for her support, knowing her dislike for such a large crowd. People bowed as we passed, but I hardly noticed them. All I noted was my friend at my side. His eyes flickered around, and I wondered if he liked the lacquers and decorations and the amber used so richly. He contemplated the titled floors, the carved banisters, the plaqued walls and the painted doors equally. I noticed how he didn't miss who was in the first row of people bowing on our way, and who on the second or third and their clothes. Mostly Liantharian, refugees of that warring country, but some Vietmaran as well, and other who were dressed like neither, but rather a mixture of both.

Only on me his eyes didn't rest. He was here, and yet, not here. I couldn't make head nor tail of it.

Being morning, only a light tea would be offered to the White Prophet. I dreaded it. I have never been able to be patient enough to suffer gracefully during the whole ceremony on my heels, and the mysteries of the utensil is quite lots on me.

Besides, the final product is little better than elfbark tea.

Vien brewed the tea so impeccably that no one would guess he had practice to exhaustion and was quite jittery, aside from fearful, at the idea of serving tea to the White Prophet himself. I offered the tea to my friend with both hands, in sign of respect. He took delicate wooden cup from me, and paused. It was one of his, the same I had used in the mountain to serve him dried-meat broth. He looked at me then, and his eyes went soft for a second, before taking back their aloofness. I breathed more easily. There were no one else to share our tea. The ceremony is supposed to be done alone, by the White Prophet and the ruler of the land that wish to join Clerres. Yet it had evolved in a complicated dance, and whilst we were alone at the low table, all the noteworthy citizen of Fisil were at mere fifteen feet from us, watching. I have rarely felt so uncomfortable. As the script went, we didn't speak a word to each other. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I marveled at how deliberate my gesture looked, at how steady my hands were despite my internal turmoil. I knew not what to feel. Perhaps neither did he.

In the end, my neck crooked and my back hurting, we raised again and bowed to each other.

 _May thee findest peace in..._ Snowcloud's mental voice was a true snigger. She was somewhere behind the crowd, away from the people.

 _I have recovered, sister. Thank you_. I heard her laugh bubbling in my mind and glanced at the Fool, but his gaze gave away nothing. I felt a pang of loss so deep it almost constricted my throat. He hadn't perceive the exchange between me and my Wit-partner. I blinked.

"May thou findest harmony in my house, Prophet, for this land is thine as thou walkest in peace and wisdom" I said, bowing to him, more deeply than to anyone since I became King. He answered my bow, but didn't speak. We parted, I coming back from where I went, and the Prophet going to the other side of the room. It was Vien's duty to show him his rooms.

I strided away without looking left nor right. I could feel Snowcloud disengaging herself from the mass and coming to meet me. I sent her a wordless gratitude and the amused, gentle friendship that came back from our link was a balm to my soul.

Thence, all would depend on the White Prophet. There might be a formal, sumptuous dinner with dance and music to nothing at all until our departure in the morrow. Amber Castle was ready for both and all in-between.

I wondered if I was.

My step brought me back to my chambers. I opened the massive wooden door, a novelty on Vietmar, where most doors are of paper. I closed it behind me and Snowcloud and put my back to it. I stared at the carved ceiling unseeing. I should have been downstairs, I knew. It was a time to talk and to listen, to watch and note. But I couldn't muster the energy to care. Dimly, I noticed I was trembling in all limbs, I watched my hands quiver without a feeling. I forced myself to breath slowly. My mind was blank. I didn't know what was going to happen. No - It wasn't true. I knew.

_Brother, your fears are without reason. The Scentless One will not do you harm._

Snowcloud's mental voice was slightly exasperated. I forced a smile. It wasn't harm I feared. I didn't know what it was.

Snowcloud trotted towards the fireplace, another innovation for the land of Clerres, as it is done from my design in the Six Duchies' style. She sprawled in front of it, putting her muzzle over her pawn and looking at me with an amused expression.

I took out from the ornate cabinet a bottle of golden brandy, and two glasses. The brandy came from the other side of the World, and the bottle was full and unopened. I quietly put everything in front of the hearth, over the small, enamel table in the middle of two chairs. Then I stopped, and fussily rearranged it till Snowcloud threatened to bite me if I didn't stop all that clinking of glassware. I complied, and fell heavily on the stuffed chair farthest from the door, looking without seeing outside the window. It would soon be midday. I was not hungry, but Snowcloud had eat nothing from when she had broken her fast that morning. I wondered if there would be time for calling a lunch for my companion.

"Xanhà Doi Chihn. Farseer FitzChivalry. I should have noticed."

I stilled, all the muscles in my body going rigid. He had always been able to catch me unaware. I forced myself to relax, turning my head to him.

"I don't have your imagination with names. My old one in a new tongue seemed... sufficient".

He didn't answer to this, but kept staring at me. I studied him just as much. He hadn't changed, and wore the embroidered garbs of the White Prophet still, yet his expression had none of the remoteness that a Prophet should have. His thin hands were still on the door handle. His eyes had the fixed look of a cat stalking a prey. Although we are of a height, he still somehow managed to look down coolly on me. There was stillness in his face that bespoke a great anger. I thought he was not going to speak to me. Then, "Start explaining" he said coldly. He stood, not looking at me now, breathing quietly. He was both the most welcome, and the most dreaded sight I had seen in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dum dum dum... The doom approaces! Fitz has indeed some explanation to give, don't you think? :D


	6. Brandy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, deep thanks to Sand Dun and Carlile, my betas!
> 
> And thanks to Andromeda-Aires whose words spurn me on :D
> 
>  
> 
> Zum zum, Important chapter this one... :D

** Chapter Five: Brandy **

_One Jewel-Flint, lovely to behold:_

_Behit is the Diamond in the stone of old._

_Two Jewels-Flint, blended in one:_

_Dhevron is the Ruby, the blood-gem strong._

_Three Jewels-Flint, the pride of us all:_

_Liatharin, the wisest, is for Emerald._

_Four Jewels-Flint that glimmer and gleam:_

_Uzkabat is for Amethyst, the queen's dream._

_Five Jewels-Flint that see with open eyes:_

_Thantres is the Sapphire, sparkling gem of the sky._

_Six Jewels-Flint created one throne:_

_Atremandia is Jasper, many and one stone._

_Seven Jewels-Flint, their story left untold:_

_Kizah is for Onix that shines black and bold._

_Eight Jewels-Flint, they suffered and they bled:_

_Vietmar is the Amber, tears that trees once shed._

_Nine Jewels-Flint that have set us free:_

_Last is Malach's pearl, rising from the sea._

_Ten is for Clerres, our great White Land_

_For we alone against Ruin will stand!_

Clerres' counting rhyme

 

I think I groaned. I passed one hand over my eyes, a strange stillness overcoming me. My heart beat painfully, but not fast, in my chest. I breathed out, sighed, and gestured to the other stuffed chair.

"Sit down, Fool. This is going to take a while," I said quietly. He walked toward the seat, his gaze never leaving me. He moved oddly, at once with his customary fluidity and strange little jerks. He sat gingerly and waited. I turned so we could face each other, and the sounds of wood against stone scraped loudly in the silence. I would have welcomed the sounds of construction from outside, but everything was silent.

_The time of reckoning has come! Behold!_

I silently cursed Snowcloud, who laughed at me like only dogs can laugh and rose, her tail high, to go to the Fool. She nuzzled his hand insistently, begging to be pet.

_You have no shame, sister._

_None at all,_ she confirmed cheerfully, while my friend stopped to look at me for a second and, with a small smile, started to caress Snowcloud.

He raised one eyebrow at me. I sighed. "I do not know how to begin," I admitted quietly. I couldn't stop staring at him more than he could at me. I had never thought to speak to him again. I had never envisioned him and myself once more in front of a fireplace, my bond-companion between us, simply sharing brandy and stories. Traitor tears burned in the back of my eyes. I did not let them fall.

The Fool pointed at the brandy with his head, not stopping his petting of Snowcloud. I nodded and smiled a little. "As good a start as any," I commented wryly. His silence was unsetting. I uncorked the bottle and the smell of apricot and honey filled the room. I heard the Fool's sharp intake of breath at it. I didn't raise my eyes. "I imported this. I... like it. Sometimes." I did not tell him that I had taken to the habit of drinking it after I went, as a pilgrim among many, to hear the White Prophet. He had no need to learn of my solitary toasting.

Again, my friend didn't answer. He took the exquisite blown glass I gave him, full of yellow-gold liquid, and waited. I sprawled on the chair, watching unseeingly the fireplace. There was no real need for fire and it was empty, but I had to collect my thoughts somehow. I had not decided how to tell him what I had to. Perhaps I should have spent my time rehearsing my story, but, childish, I hoped that not thinking about it would make this confrontation never to happen. I raised my eyes to the fireplace mantle.

"You could start by telling me why you are here. And how, come to think of it, you are at all. You were dead. You did not come back from the Skill-Pillar." His quiet voice startled me, and I almost spilled my drink. I watched him, blinking. His face was pitched, and his eyes had an expression I could not fathom. If grief could be a stone the colour of dark coffee, that is how it would look like.

"I came out of the Skill-Pillar after a month or so. I... do not know why or how that happened. Only that it did," I replied slowly. I didn't like to think about that too strange time in the Skill-Pillar, the doorway used in ancient time by Elderlings to pass from place to place. Yet all came with a price, and the Skill-Pillars take from you. The more you use them, the more they take. Thirty-two years ago I had used them one occasion too many, and had been trapped inside one, for a whole month. I averted my eyes. And when I used them again, what had been took from me was given back. But this, I didn't say. Perhaps I should have.

"And nine years ago you became King Chihn." He said nothing more. I frowned, uncomprehending, and stared at him. It didn't surprise me that he knew this. Every servant in the palace may have told him so much.

"You did not come to me. I thought you dead, Fitz. For thirty-two years. A lifetime. And for more than ten of those, you were in Clerres, with me." It was scarcely more than a breath. I bit my lips. I did not expect that, not then, not so soon. Myriad possible answers surfaced in my mind, yet I gave none. Why hadn't I gone to him, indeed? I bowed my head and in doing so I noticed the accusation in his stare. My shoulders tensed and anger flamed instead of guilt.

"You left me. You did it. It was your choice, not mine. Do not ask me why I respected it," I snapped, rising to my feet with force. Pain flared up my arm and I rubbed my wrist instinctively. He looked at me and I suddenly realized I was on my feet with my wrist in my hand. I let go of it self-consciously.

Time stretched between us.

Snowcloud scratched an ear and yawned. From what my Wit told me, she thought we possessed all the intelligence of a still-blind puppy, with none of its loveliness.

I groaned and sat down again, putting my face in my hands. "I came to see you. As often as I could. You seemed... content. At peace. What right did I have to—"

I heard the brandy bottle uncork and the liquid pour into the glass. The sound was strangely soothing. I lifted my head wearily and he offered me the glass without a word. I took it, and he nodded, slowly, once, before averting his gaze. I knew he understood. I looked into the empty fireplace and sipped my brandy. I tasted warmth summer days, and friendship. I breathed and felt my muscles unknot a little.

_You are an awful storyteller, brother mine. Simply awful._

I ignored Snowcloud's bait. I nursed my drink in both hands, not looking at my friend. It was easier to talk without looking at him.

"You asked why I came. I came because I had a vision. I saw you would die if I wouldn't stop it," I replied. The words tumbled out of my lips before I could check them. I cursed my habit of speaking before thinking. I sat tense once more, holding my breath and fearing his reaction.

He burst out laughing.

I blinked. It was good to hear him laugh. It had been too much time since I last heard it, and the sound was pleasant. Still, that wasn't the reaction I had anticipated in the dark of the night, when I allowed myself to ponder our nearing meeting. I watched him with a blank expression.

His laughter died out. He studied me. Slowly, the colour went from his face, like water seeping into the ground.

"You aren't joking," he said, flatly. I shook my head. He regarded me again, and it was his turn to drink up the brandy. He poured himself another glass, his dark gaze never leaving the glass, and drank up that, too. I watched him with some alarm. My friend, drunk, had always been both unpredictable and volatile. I did not think it was the best moment to be either.

"Tell me. Everything." The lack of feeling in his voice chilled me. My expression had to give away my bewilderment, because his eyes softened. I hesitated, to gather my wits, and then started talking. For a second, I was flung back years and miles, giving reports to Burrich or Chade of my doings. I shook out the feeling.

"It happened seventeen years ago. I was in the woods, hunting with Snowcloud. I had been feeling feverish in the last days, but I thought Winter had left me weaker than the years before. Truthfully, I hoped it. I had no outward sign of age." I looked at my hands in my lap. "I was at the end of my fifth decade, and it was supposed to have left signs on me. Yet I had none." I shrugged. "I was as I am now, as you left me. I was running a deer toward Snowcloud, when I – fell." I paused to organize my thoughts. "When I opened my eyes, I saw you. Dressed in white garb, embroidered and decorated with wooden beads. You lay in the snow. I knew you were dead." My voice sounded odd in my own ears, soft and eerie and almost fearful. I did not described to him the ice on his eyelids, or the bluish colour of his lips. I could still see it so very clearly, like I had seen it just yesterday and not almost two decades ago. I shuddered. "The mountains around you were different from anywhere I knew. They were real, I knew it, and yet they were not. They were as real as symbols are. They were white, not only the snow and ice, but the very stones and sky. All was outlined in white, like a painting not yet filled with pigments or shades. You were the only colour in that land. I knew other people were there, but I saw them as you can see a shadow in the corner of your eyes, always shifting out of sight. I was aware they were the ones who had killed you, but I couldn't set my eyes on them, even spinning like a spinning top. Then—" I closed my eyes, and spoke deliberately, searching for the correct words. "I didn't see the rest. I – perceived it. It was inside me, and yet pertained the outside. I felt akin my own blood moving inside me to beats I could not discern, mapping the patterns that would bring me to – what I saw. Similar to the canals used to drive waters, with dams to control the flow. But it was still my own blood. " I trailed off. "I do not know how to explain it," I confessed quietly. Maybe this is how he felt, all those years, trying to talk to me. This helpless to explain what common language had no words for.

"As a matter of fact, this is one of the best explanations I have ever heard. Mind if I borrow it?"

His words were neutral, even playful, but his tone stunned me. I eyed him. His face was a mask, but I knew my friend well. I swallowed, for what I heard in his voice was fright. He feared me, and what I was saying. The signs were subtle, but we had always been well versed in reading each other.

I tore my eyes from him.

Snowcloud sent a tendril of awareness, questing toward me, feeling my turmoil. I tried to reassure her. As a distraction, I resumed my tale. "I thought minutes had passed, but when I regained consciousness I was in a cave. I discovered I had been unconscious for three days and Snowcloud had pulled me there to shelter me. Everybody was frantic when I came back." I paused, then plundered in, "I also discovered that my eyes had changed, gone a shade lighter." I did not speak of the pain in my bones that I felt upon awaking, or of how my steps had become unsteady.

It was my turn to dread. I dreaded watching him, and seeing that shadow in his gaze again.

I heard him take a slow, sharp intake of breath and then exhale. Silence fell between us, broken only by the thumps of Snowcloud's tail against the ground. Not for the first time, I envied my bond-companions’ simpler lives.

His voice was careful when he spoke again, slow, but without that hint of the fear that so frightened me.

"You had a vision. In that vision, you saw my death."

"Yes."

"And when you woke, your eyes had changed".

"Yes."

"You left the Six Duchies to prevent it."

I nodded one last time and stole a glance at him. He looked faraway and thoughtful. Yet there was bewilderment in him, like he had lost his footing, and knew not how to proceed. I sighed. I rose onto my feet and put a hand on the mantle, the other in the sash of my robe.

"You once described to me both the Elderlings and the Others as the result of... a long vicinity between Humans and Dragons." I turned toward him and he flinched at meeting my eyes. Still, it could not be helped. "We had been very close, Fool, and for a long time," I continued. I debated swiftly, not whether to lie to him, but how much of the truth I wished to share. Lying to the Fool was wasted effort. He had always known when I lied to him, and managed to deduce the truth from it. Limiting his knowledge was the better tactic. And I felt no scruples about it, for it was the device he most often employed against me. He was not ready for the whole truth.

_Or perhaps you aren't, brother mine._

I ignored Snowcloud's word and studied him while what I said bled inside him and wished I could spare him from what I anticipated would happen, for I knew him too well. For a moment, a terrible expression darkened his features. He stopped petting Snowcloud and dropped his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, hiding whatever passed in his face. I made a step in his direction, then another, and I was at his side. Before I could check myself, I put a hand on his slim shoulder. "Fool, it is alright," I said, helplessly trying to convey how much more than that it was. My voice sounded pitifully useless in my own ears. The Fool shook his head, but didn't try to dislodge my hand. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to me. "From ruin he shall draw the face of his Beloved, and bring light to his eyes in place of darkness. My own prophecy. I have known that since my twelfth year. Paragon, I thought. Giving him back his sight, and his eyes colouring blue instead of brown." His voice halted. "Fitz…" I inhaled at the sound of my name on his lips, and at the feeble way he said it. I kneeled, trying to catch his eyes, not realizing how, perhaps, looking at mine was the last thing he wished, now.

I do not know how long we stayed like this, Snowcloud and me at the sides of the Fool, Snowcloud looking at me and I at my friend. Despite the situation, I felt a wave of _rightness_ swell inside me. I did not dwell on it. It was not the time.

At last, my friend breathed deeply and raised his head, looking at me. He blinked slowly and gripped his own knees, his elegant hands clenching spasmodically for a second, before relaxing. I did not comment. He exhaled and nodded. I stood silent, not knowing what to say. There was so much I needed to tell. And yet, how could I do it, conscious as I was of the effect it would have on him?

"And your longevity—" His voice halted and broke. I nodded, and then spoke, since he couldn't see me, his face still downcast.

"Yes. I think it is the reason."

He made a small sound, between breath and pain, soft and keen as a cub whine, and then nodded again, the ball of his hands on his temples, his eyes squinted shut. I longed to do something to ease him, but I couldn't think of any words or deeds to achieve my end. So I did nothing.

Abruptly, he flowed to his feet, as smoothly as if a string was attached to his head and had lifted him from the chair. I stood still on my knee for a moment, disoriented, before rising as well. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and bit his lips. He inhaled sharply. I could see him willing himself together, his slender hand going to cover his lips and his eyes closing again. I ached and knew not what to do.

"Thank you, Fitz. I need—" He stopped, shuddered. "I am going to prepare. Tell the Castle that no further celebration is necessary. We will... depart three days after tomorrow." He turned while still speaking, so fast that the beads on his White Prophet garments rattled softly.

Helpless, I watched him go and heard the sound of the door opening and closing.

I stood still, baffled in the empty room. Snowcloud turned her muzzle toward me, inclining her neck.

_This did not go too badly, brother._

I gaped at the door. I wasn't sure Snowcloud was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the reason Fitz was in Clerres :D
> 
> Had some of you guessed it? What do you think? :D I personally thought it was very likely that in such a scenario Fitz would go to Clerres. And of course there is more to it... ;)
> 
> Stay tuned, next week next chapter ^_^


	7. Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to all my readers. It is good to know somebody is reading this^^ I would love if any of you would tell me what you think of this :D
> 
>  
> 
> Fluffy chapter this one. Of course, it isn't going to last *mad laugh*

** Chapter Six: Straw **

 

_Despite the fact that Clerres is one land, every country has different laws and peculiar traditions that a Huan should know, to best serve his Lord or Lady._

_One example is Vietmar's marriage custom, exceptional in all the White Land. In Vietmar two men, brothers or cousins, marry a woman and the children of the marriage are considered to belong to both of them. The tradition is rumored to be ancient, and is considered eminently practical: in case of death of one of the fathers, the other can take spousal responsibilities, and two brothers or cousins are distinctively suited to raise children. In the case of royalty it is believed this custom prevents the struggles that are so common in other countries, where brothers fight over their forebears' throne. Since, as everybody knows, all regal houses are of one blood, a King of Vietmar without suitable brothers or cousins can claim the offspring of any sovereign family his “Royal Brother” and invite him to reign together._

_This has created an unique way to form alliances._

Excerpt from "Advice of a Great Trainer to Young Huans", by Great Trainer Dalag

 

The afternoon and evening passed in a haze. I spent my time wondering if I should approach my friend, while juggling notables and nobles to the point that Snowcloud firmly closed me out of her mind, since, by her words, I was "as annoying as the mosquitoes in the wet season."In the end, I chose to give him his space. I had had years to come to term with the changes in my body and what they meant. I reminded myself it was all new tidings to him. I immersed myself in the politic of Waitan, heard from Gao how House Suen had a greater number of guests than any other Houses put together, and sent more guards, both Vietmar and Khams, into Fisil to distribute food for celebration and to keep the peace.

I slept badly that night and woke in a foul mood. I snapped at Vien when he came to shave me and help me dress. I have always found venting at Vien to be a base act, as a Huan will never answer to his Lord, even when his Lord greatly deserves it. I wasn't hungry and refused breakfast. It was too soon for the fanfare associated with the White Prophet visit to begin, so, once dressed, I started rambling around the stables and the kennels, while Vien fell to his pace behind me. I felt the tension ebb out of me, the minds of the animals expanding like sweet waft from good rising bread. Stables and kennels have always calmed me.

Vien made a not-quite-sound, and I turned my head toward him, raising my eyebrows, wondering if he held a grudge against me. He hesitated before speaking slowly. "I have noticed that the White Prophet spent quite a time with you, yesterday, my liege." I stopped and my concerns came to me again. I sighed. Vien looked at me with his black eyes, his face striving not to show curiosity or concern. He did not know of my past afore my time in Clerres. I had been careful to keep that part of my life to myself.

"The White Prophet had to speak to me about important matter, Vien," I said, shrugging lightly. He nodded to me and his expression got serious. "I heard he praised the effort of the Lords of the East, House Nyugien, in their strife to increase the commerce between Clerres and the Away Kingdoms." I hadn't, but it didn't surprise me. "Also, the White One had praised the effort of the Crown of Vietmar in being open to new ideas and changes." Vien seemed perplexed by this. Again, I wasn't. I smiled and nodded. "The Prophet is wise, Vien. We need to change."

I resumed my walking, towards the kennel. I could feel Snowcloud asserting her dominance there. She likes to remind the dogs she is the highest ranking female, and, thanks to her wolf strength and human cunning, she can indeed easily win most fights. We keep three breeds of dog in the Amber Castle, and not one of them knows the part of the World I come from. My favorite is the Pumgsan, native to Vietmar, a strong and enduring hound, fit to be set against large prey. They fear nothing, not even the Great Cat. Snowcloud looks remarkably similar to this breed, and is always eager to remind the other bitches of their place in the hierarchy.

"You know I agree with you, King Chihn. So few Whites have had this attitude..." I turned and saw Vien frowning. I waited. "From the records. Still, what the Prophet does is well done," he hurried down saying. I said nothing. Off the top of my head I could name several times that "Prophets" had committed acts I wouldn't considered well done in any circumstance, and my friend had made his share of mistakes during the years. But I knew enough of Clerres to keep my mouth shut.

We entered the kennels. It is a wide area, with several well-kept dogs. The Pumgsan aren't bred to guard, so they barely looked at me. They had but little interest in me outside the hunt and rarely bothered to acknowledge my Wit-quest toward them.

My companion barked at me. She was strutting in front of the cages, her tail high and her gait rigid. She waggled her tail.

 _Hello, brother. The Little One is around. Good to see you aren't as annoying as before._ She saluted me, going to Vien to be petted. I raised an eyebrow and searched for Gao with my eyes, refusing to comment on the rest of her statement. There were a some hands around the kennels, boys and girls in rough cotton and wood and cord sandals, scuttling around with brushes or food or water or fresh straw. They bowed at me so deeply their foreheads almost touched their knees and looked at me from the corners of their eyes. I wished they didn't.

"It pleases me that our efforts are recognized, Vien. Still, this will not help our relationships with Liantharin. Not now and not on the long run." The Huan nodded. He knew as I did that the commerce we brought inside Clerres mostly took the place of what Liantharin couldn't produce anymore. "Some think things will go back to normal after the civil war, my liege." I kneeled to pet Snowcloud, who sat on her haunches in front of a shelter. I smiled, knowing inside there were four puppies and their dam, two of them under the straw. Snowcloud nosed me.

 _I worry for the brown one, brother mine. He seems sickly_. I looked at the pup in the straw. _You are right, sister, it is smaller and weaker than his siblings._ I gestured to a hand nearby, who was studiously not looking at me.

"Take care of that pup, boy," I said, indicating the cub. I rose to my feet, scratching Snowcloud under her throat.

"Things don't come back, Vien. Time only moves forward." I recited the old saying of Clerres. He nodded at me. "Still. We shall be prepared." I rounded the corner, letting the minds of the hounds soothe me as the ones of horses had. Gao was there, talking with Kau, the Stablemaster's wife and Houndmaster in her own right. She is one of the first Khams to have chosen a different life for her own. She did not bow but she did nod and smile at me, inclining her head to show her throat in a gesture of submission. I glanced at her, noticing the newborn on her hip. Khamp, her Pumgsan bond-beast, threw himself onto his back, exposing his belly while Snowcloud looked at him, tail and ears high.

"Demmat. I was teaching Gao. He is a quick learner of the Siòng Path," she explained, with a gesture of her hand, while Khamp put himself back on his paws, keeping a submissive behavior toward Snowcloud. I smiled at Gao, who looked at his feet for a moment before smiling tentatively back. Both ignored Vien, as custom dictated, even if I believe that, in Kau's case, it was more discomfort than politeness. "I see you are well, Kau." I gestured towards the small infant she was holding on a sling over her chest. Kau smiled, amused. "It was an easy whelping. Our son was born the same time as Thama's litter. We are awaiting to see if he is _Kham_. If it be so, he will go to the Tree." I nodded, not particularly appalled, neither by her wording nor by the concepts, but I heard Vien’s intake of breath behind me at her defining childbirth as "whelping". I smiled.

I talked a while more with Kau about the dogs while Gao went to do his chores, but not too long after she left for her duties as well. I scratched Snowcloud's head and breathed deeply before turning on my heels toward the stable to complete the circle, as both stables and kennels are cut into the stone of the cliff. As such, the stables are made of rock, and much straw is necessary to avoid damage to the sinewy horses kept there but, otherwise, it is an ideal site.

The sun had not yet awoken all the beasts and their sleep was peaceful. I could see hands about, measuring grains for the morning feed. The sound of grain on grain sliding in the bucket reminded me of my childhood as much as the smell of straw and clean horses. I breathed easily and went toward Siunei's stall. The pregnant mare was awake and danced on her feet, neighing softly at me. Snowcloud, used to horses, looked at her with lack of interest. I smiled and went inside her stall, the straw crunching under my boots. I caressed her belly, frowning. Stablemaster Ji appeared from nowhere, pursuing his lips, his heavy, white eyebrows concentrating in the middle. I raised my eyes to him. He bowed deeply, with a sharp, jerking movement. I nodded at him. "You were right, Stablemaster. The twinning resolved spontaneously. I think we can look forward to a healthy colt. You made the right choice to wait."

The Stablemaster didn't smile at me, but his eyebrows loosened and he bowed again, in his fleeting way, without speaking. I put my hand in the black doublet I wore and took out a small package, handing it to him. "For your son's First Month," I explained, sensing his confusion. He took the silken baby dress with both sinewy, rough hands, the swollen knuckles similar to wooden knots. I turned toward the mare, not to embarrass him by noticing the play of his emotions. "Thank you, my king." The old man’s voice was raspy from disuse and gruff. I nodded again. The Stablemaster is one of the few Vietmar who have taken a Kham's spouse, but Kau is also one of the few Khams to have bonded to a domestic beast, something that a number of her people still consider an abomination.

Vien was looking dubiously at the mare. I smiled, amused. My Huan had never trusted horses, even if he learnt to ride at my request. I eyed Siunei with satisfaction. She is a Road horse, with all the endurance and muscle power of that breed, but I had been trying to refine the line of the kind, to make them more graceful and lithe. Siunei, with Toiden, my stallion, and some other beasts are the result. I had high hopes for the colt.

Vien cleared his throat. "A... very fine animal" The Stablemaster and I exchanged eloquent glances.

The Stablemaster bowed deeply again, and I nodded at him. I watched him go to his business with a vague longing and started rambling around the stables and the kennels, the smell of horses and hay, the minds of the animals and the brightness of the fine day lifting my spirit. Snowcloud trotted beside me, ears up and gait lively, her mind echoing mine.

A movement at the corner of my eyes gathered my attention. I stopped, recognizing Gao running toward me. The boy was in his best clothes, as everybody in the Castle but the hands, and had I not just saw him taking orders from Kau, I would not have recognized in him. Gao came to a halt close to me, and tried to take back his breath. He bowed, still panting, his jerking motions reminding me of Stablemaster Ji.

When he spoke, his words were rehearsed, in the way a boy repeats what he had been told to say. "I have been told to ask you if the apricots could be brought to the inner kitchen, my King."

I went still.

I could almost feel Vien frowning at that. A King should not be bothered with questions about apricots. But as I watched the nervous child with what I hoped was a lack of expression, I did not agree with him. I knew who had told Gao to run that errand, and what it meant.

I spoke before Vien could. "I shall think on it, Gao." I turned toward my Huan, deliberately. I looked at him, but waited till Gao was out of sight before speaking. I have noticed how my gaze can unnerve people, now that my eyes have the same colour as the Amber Vietmar is so tied to. But Vien was well trained, – if my stare troubled him, he did not show it.

"Vien, I have a task for you. Make a basket of food and bring it to my room. Enough for two. Take care that no one notices you."He just nodded and scurried away, without a backward glance. Huans are often asked to complete errands much stranger than that by their Lords.

I breathed deeply. Snowcloud barked softly and I looked at her. She cocked her head to the side, waggled her tail, and jumped on track, heading towards the inner kitchen.

I followed her.

The inner kitchen is mostly a ceremonial room, where on particular days ritual dishes are prepared, to be offered to ancestors or spirits or, in some case, Kings or Prophets. Most of time, it is little more than a storage closet at the end of a hallway. It wasn't far from where I was, but it took me the better part of an hour to get there. It is hard to move without being noticed when one is King.

My feet echoed strangely in the empty hallway, matching the beating of my heart. Snowcloud was giddy instead, and jumped ahead of me, to the point that I shut her out. She stopped in front of the inner kitchen door and tilted her muzzle at me, one ear tipped lower than the other. She scraped the wood with her pawn. I breathed deeply and opened it.

The small room was empty, save for the small stove and some three-legged stools. Light poured in from the windows, showing the dance of dust in its wake.

My friend sat on one of the stools, and busy carving the leg of another with what was, once I cared to look at it, a kitchen knife. He kept the carved stool between his legs, and shavings were scattered around him. The light fell on him and his work. He was dressed in the more common garb of Vietmar, with wide trousers and a tunic with a sash, all in a soft cream colour lined with brown. His long hair was tied simply in a tail. As many peasants in the country, he was barefoot.

He raised his head at the sound I made, and we looked at each other for a tense second.

Snowcloud barked softly, jumped into the room, then on my friend and proceeded, barking, to wash his face. He let the kitchen knife fall, and attempted to cover the stool between his legs with both arms.

"Snowcloud! Stop!"

The indignant sound of his voice made me laugh, and indeed the scene was priceless. I closed the door behind me while my companion, satisfied to have welcomed well a pack-mate, sat on her haunches and waggled her tail happily, scattering curls of wood in every direction.

The Fool dried his face with his sash. I noticed smudges of colour on his cheeks. He must have used his pigments as a part of the disguise he was wearing.

"I fear you will have to get used to it. I tried to explain her this is no way to salute you, but to no avail.".

He looked accusingly at the wolf-dog. I sat on the other stool. "She does it on purpose." But, even as he said so, he scratched her between her ears. She wagged her tail more. I nodded, nonetheless. "You said she is Nighteyes' graddaughter." I nodded again, trying to get myself comfortable on the low stool. My friend had his legs folded under the seat, but if I tried to copy him my bones and joints fell into place, but my muscles ached from the partially unnatural position. "Yes. I – discovered it some months before I departed. Nighteyes had sired wolf-dogs with a herding bitch from one of my neighbors, Baylor by name. He told me one of those pups was a female, more wolf-like than her littermates, and one night she escaped and went with a pack of wolves. Not for long, for the wolves would not have accepted a half-dog, but when she came back to the farm, Baylor said she was gravid. Snowcloud is the only one of the litter to survive." He nodded slowly at me and opened his mouth to speak.

Snowcloud and I tensed. Heavy steps passed in front of the hallway's door, stopped a second and went away. My friend and I exchanged looks.

"This is no safe place to talk. I – would like to show you something. If you want. It is a place where we could talk without being overheard," I said, quickly, and glanced at him. He nodded again. I took a key out of my doublet and handed it to him. When he took it, frowning, his gloved fingers caressed my hand. "It opens all the doors of the castle. Can you come to my rooms without being seen?"

"Just because I wear the clothes of a Prophet, don't think I have forgotten all my tricks." He sounded almost offended. I smiled and nodded, rising to my feet. "I'll see you there, then." My eyes lingered on him. Our gaze looked and held. He hesitated and inhaled, slowly.

"I am sorry to have – run away, yesterday. I was—" He tore his dark eyes from me and looked at the half-carved stool in hands. "I—"

"Fool," I interrupted him. When he did not look at me, I tried again. "Beloved." He shuddered and turned to face me, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

"I understand," I said quietly. And I did. "I'll wait for you in my room."

I turned and went out of the small kitchen, down the hallway and into the main Castle, Snowcloud trotting behind me.

_I hate that place, brother mine. I am not going to follow you there._

_It is a good place to talk, Snowcloud._

_It is. I am still not going. I am hungry, Changer. I'll go to get something to eat._ She shook her head, almost coquettish _. There are easier ways than hunting, brother. Your kind did do some good things._

She headed for the kitchens, walking briskly. I went to my rooms, noticing the number of people in the Castle. Most of Fisil seemed to be there. I noticed Citymaster Lang, Notable Baojia, Notable Hu, and many more. They bowed to me as I passed, leaving the central part of the hallway to me. I barely took notice of them. From the light, I estimated it must be around mid-day. I was glad I had asked Vien to fetch me a basket of food, since my friend was likely to be hungry soon.

I opened my door without even noticing the carving on it. They are changed every moon, to always be auspicious. Vien was inside, and a basket was on the low table. I nodded at him and looked square into his eyes.

"I'll be busy this afternoon. Be down on the foyer for my room, and stop everybody who tries to get in. But first, go in the kitchens and ensure that Snowcloud gets her food."

Vien sighed, putting his hands in his wide sleeves.

"You know, my Lord, you could simply tell me to come back in half a hour or so and make sure nobody comes inside. It would save me an useless trip to the kitchens."

I smiled ruefully and rubbed my chin. "Then come back in half a hour and make sure nobody bothers me before sunset."

He nodded and bowed, but I noticed the subtle frown on his brow. I rarely send him away anymore those days, at least for long periods. Still, I did not want to share with Vien part of my life that belongs to me alone, if it was nothing to do with my role as King of Vietmar. Surely, FitzChivalry was allowed his space. It wasn't because I wanted my friend all for me, I told myself.

While I waited for my friend, I raised the lid. The basket contained nothing that could spill, I noticed, pleased. I went to one of the chests and took out two lengths of silken rope. My rooms have a terrace, that directly overlooks the ocean. There are breathtaking views of the sea from there. Thanks to the angle of the castle, it is not possible for anybody else to see the balcony, or what happens on it. Vien, Fizek and Chyne all dislike it. They claim that it would be all too easy for somebody to throw somebody else out of it. In their thinking, the person being thrown is me.

They have never considered that one of the reasons I keep the balcony is that it may be the other way around.

I tied the ropes with a strong knot to the stone banister and tested it. It held. I watched the sea, shining under the sun. It was too tall for its roaring to be something more than a murmur. I breathed the salty air and went inside.

My friend was looking under the lid of the basket, curious as a child. He was still dressed in his common Vietmar garb, without shoes. The cream colour looked good against his bronze, and his skin is not much different from that of many Khams. He could pass unnoticed better than I could.

He turned to me, and I smiled, amused. He answered my smile.

"My rooms aren't the place I was talking about." I glanced at the door and took the basket. "Vien will make sure no one comes in. Follow me." I walked towards the terrace. His bare feet made no noise on the polished wooden floor while he followed me.

"I do wonder how you managed to acquire a Huan." I looked at him past my shoulder, balancing the pannier on the balustrade. "I was there when the Iduyan's demons followed the refugees from Lhansa, among whom all the Great Trainers and the young Huans. You may have heard of it."

I gave him one of the ropes. I usually don't use them, but he did not know the way, and I had the bin to carry. "Ah, yes. The Great Chihn. Do I have to call you Demonsbane?" I was climbing over the banister, one of my legs on the other side of it, and my face hidden from him. He did not see the spasm of my features, and a long experience stopped my body from shivering, even as I felt my heart shrivel inside me.

"I would prefer if you wouldn't," I just said. I pointed down the cliff. What is not immediately clear when you watch out from my room is that there is a path down the cliff itself. The path is natural, but I made a group of stonecutters from Atremandia polish it. Rough, robust bushes sprung from the path, both to hide it and to provide some safety. It is a hard climb, but not impossible, and I trusted my nimble friend to make it.

The Fool was already studying the drop, his dark eyes mapping the path. He nodded once, and I started the trail, balancing the bin with care. The next handful of minutes were spent getting ourselves and our basket down. As I thought, he had no trouble following me. I caught myself watching to see how he would manage barefoot, for the path was not always smooth, and taking opportunities to catch at his arm to balance him, or take his hand. Of course, he needed none of it. He was agile as ever, moving with a fluid grace that was as familiar to me as the motion of breathing, as sure on the rocky slope as on flat land.

We didn't speak, and he didn't ask where we were going. But sometimes I felt his eyes on me, when I passed through a difficult route without stopping nor using the handhold carefully carved in the stone.

We finally reached the end of the trail. I heard him gasp when I disappeared after a particular dense bush. "Fitz? Fitz!" Before I could answer him, he swiftly followed me, and then stood still, his coffee-coloured eyes wide. It was a cave, perhaps sixty five  feet above the sea, safe even from the highest waves. I do not know how it formed. Inside, it was littered with amber.

"I heard of Waitan Amber's mines. But I did not think—-" I nodded. The amber looked like honey around us and under our feet, making the whole cave resemble crystallized light, if light could be made solid. The rays of the sun inflamed the walls, tinting itself in rich golden colours, and the amber's veins danced with thousand gleams. Standing inside the small cavern was like breathing radiance.

He let out a ragged breath and I basked in the beauty of the place and of him. He looked gorgeous there, his own colour molding into the small landscape. I smiled, satisfied without knowing why.

I put down the basket and he shook out his reverie. He untied the rope around his waist as I had done already, and knelt to help me. I had brought down pillows a long time afore and we made ourselves comfortable on them. He opened the bin, taking out the food while I spread the cloth and arranged the plates. Vien had packed well, but I sighed at the balls of rice.

"I miss bread sometimes," I commented wistfully.

 **T** he Fool shrugged and took one. "I used to miss rice, when I first came to the Six Duchies. But now I also admit to think quite longingly of bread, from time to time." I nodded. I had never thought of it when I lived in my birth country, but now that I know of Clerres, and about how much he had probably been worshipped as a child, I realized how hard it had to be for him to make the transition from being the White Prophet to being Shrewd's Fool.

"Atremandia and Thantres are importing wheat. It may be we will have bread soon."

He glanced up at me. "I heard of that. I was looking forward to coming to Vietmar even before we met on the mountain. Commerce with the Away Kingdoms, new magic, Waitan's annexation – I was quite surprised when you mentioned you would be here, as well." I raised an eyebrow, pouring cold tea for both of us into little cups.

"You mean, there are unseen before changes and you are surprised I were in the middle of it?" I asked with a small smile.

He made a sound not unlike a puff and laughed softly. "No, thinking again, I am not surprised at all."

We ate in comfortable silence for a while. He ate, mostly. I drank some tea, as the climb had made me thirsty, but I wasn't hungry. I watched him, and thought on how he had changed. The pale moon-faced boy of my childhood, the lithe and narrow youth who went to find Dutiful with me, the young man who left me at the Six Duchies, was fully grow now. I could see his lively wit still within his words and the laughter danced yet in his eyes. I was relieved to see it, for I remember the darkness in his gaze when we parted so many years ago. Even so, there was tranquility and gravity in his bearing and language, and thoughtfulness in the dark depth of his eyes that I had never seen.

I did not know this strange man in front of me. But I wanted to.

"You have changed." His words echoed my thoughts so exactly that I blinked in surprise, watching him without understanding. He folded his hands in his lap and regarded me so intensely I almost squirmed. "And you aren't angry with me."

The sounds were slow, deliberate, like he still couldn't make his mind about them. Again, I blinked.

"Angry? About what? At whom?"

He smiled a little sadly "Me. You. Myselves. Us."

I groaned and hunched down, my forehead on the palm of my hand and my elbow on my knee.

"You aren't making any sense. Again," I informed him. He laughed softly, and I basked in it. Then he went still, the food forgotten. I waited.

"I changed you. You said that much. And yet, you aren't angry with me." I looked at him, baffled beyond words. Never, in the seventeen years that had passed, had I thought to be angry at him, or had I found him at fault for something. I suspect that my amazement was plain to see, for he shook his head slowly, like he couldn't believe it. "It is not only your eyes and – what you told me about your vision. The way you move, too, is not like before."

I nodded. That was true, as well. He stood silent for a while, looking out of the mouth of the cave, troubled. Again, I waited. Then he took a breath.

"Was it painful?" He asked, quietly.

I hesitated. It had been excruciating, but he was already taking blame that wasn’t his. How could I add to his self-imposed burden by telling him of bones melting and joints readjusting themselves? Or of how much my muscles sometimes pained me still, to the point of confining me to bed for days on end, as they hadn't attuned to the new shapes of the rest of my body? I knew of it, my Skill showing me clearly where the skeleton had changed and the flesh around it had not. Still, there was nothing that I could do.

I fear I lingered too much on the question, for I had no wish to lie to him, neither. So when he looked at me, I knew he already had the answer I didn't want to give. He exhaled and closed his eyes. I reached out, and took one of his hands in mine, pressing a little against his. He made a sound, soft and keen as a puppy whine, and squeezed me back.

"It was a long time ago, Beloved. It is all old for me, even if it is new for you," I told him quietly. "And it was no fault of yours. It – happened." He shook his head again, his eyes faraway and unfocused. "This is not what I saw. I never—" He faltered and stood still. I sighed. At this, again. "Had you been dead, I would not have changed. But you live, and I have." I tried to meet his eyes. I waited till he raised his own to meet mine, reluctantly. The shame I saw in their depths wounded me more than I can say. I wished I could erase it. "I do not regret it. If you have to blame somebody, blame me.". I tried to convey how true my statement was, but I am not sure I succeeded. "At least, now I can understand a little how hard it is for you." I added, half joking.

He smiled slightly. "Was. I have lost my sight, have you forgotten?" The utter sadness in his voice made me aghast and surprised me at once.

"Not even recently?" I inquired, tentatively. He shook his head, without speaking. I rose to my feet to hide my surprise.

"Too much serious talk for now. Come, I'll show you my city. The path goes down to the Fisil. You can use it to enter the Castle without being seen, if you wish. You have the key," I added, and went deeper into the cave to put on the common clothes I kept there for exactly that purpose. He rose as well and put the items back in the basket, nodding.

"Why not?" He smiled at me. "I admit I am curious about your city, Fitz. I heard so much about the Great King Chihn, after all. Oh, mighty Demonsbane." He was teasing me, this I knew. He bowed exuberantly and I laughed. Then I snorted and tried to glare at him, but his laughter told me how little success I had.

And so we spent the rest of the afternoon in town, two people among many, unseen and unheard. I showed him the streets and explained the plan put in more of them and how the city was growing. I pointed out to how the animals were threatened, in respect to the Kham's Agreement that equated cruelty, be it against humans and beasts alike, and I brought him to the docks where goods from all over the World were displayed. We laughed and joked. In a small room where I went when in town, one of my refuges, I shyly showed him my calligraphy attempts and he praised me outrageously. We moved for a space in wolf time, in the contentment of the present, not worrying about what had passed or what was to come. That afternoon remains for me always a moment to cherish, as golden and fragrant as brandy in crystal glasses.

In the evening, we came back to the Castle, by the same path we took coming to town, and watched the sunset from my rooms. But it was late, and he had to go back to his own quarters, and I had to return to my duties. I accompanied him to my door and lingered here before opening it, peering out to ensure no one, save Vien, was passing. The hallway was empty. I turned toward him and tried to smile.

"The day after tomorrow we will part for Silvarin. I shall show you the White Road and the Khams. They are... strange people with extreme customs. But I think you will like them."

He smiled back at me. "I think I shall. I read... your words on them. I am curious to meet such a group." He hesitated "Good night, Fitz."

I nodded. "Good night, Beloved." _Yu'Muhl, Dhil'a._

Just before he went, his elegant hand reached for my clothes. I had put on again my royal garments, and his finger brushed against a rune that looked almost like an eight symbol lying down, with two signs in the loops. I froze.

"Funny that you would wear it. This is common in the most ancient White Chronicles. I have always liked it." He smiled at me and put his forehead against mine, in a gesture more telling that he knew. I pressed back my own against his, and then he was out of the hallway, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

I closed the door and went back to the balcony, to pull back the rope. My mind was full, fuller than it should be. I had had the best afternoon in a long, long time. And yet, he had not started to have visions and his sight had not returned. He was overdue, that I knew. How could it be?

I watched a red slice of sun disappear behind the horizon. The last ray of the sun looked like the last straw of a bonfire.

I noticed a late ship docking. I looked hard, recognizing the vessel. The King Ship and Jek were back in Waitan.

The sun set and the sudden darkness of that part of the World enveloped everything. I closed the widow, and went inside.


	8. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, my deepest thanks to Carlile and Sand Duhn. But most of all to Andromeda-Aries who keeps me writing, and to Betinafei who commented and made my day :*

**_ Interlude _ **

_The group of people is large and loud at the foot of the mountain._

_From the white child’s point of view, at the peak of a hill, they look little and faraway. The pale child's eyes are clearer than the spring sky above his head, his hair is pure white and would float around his face, but he has bound it with a string of leather. His skin is ashen, too, suffused with a soft pink colour. Blood. His clothes are leather as well: jerkins and a tunic and leggings for his feet. The hide is soft and supple, if roughly cut._

_The white child has a spear in his right hand and a spear-thrower is on his left shoulder, two lithe fingers in the holes. Several feet behind him, a patch of grass delimited by a rough circle of stone looks disturbed._

_Vanyel is watching the people._

_They cluster around fires, the women talking among themselves and feeding babies, smallish children scattered around. Not many women have babies. Not many small children walk around. Men and some women are cluttered around a group of stones and hammering them into shapes. The men and women around the second fire have white and grey hair. When the pale child’s eyes stop on one of the men, his nose wrinkles at their rough beards and noisy behavior. His is the detached look of the impassioned observer. The fine features of the little, childish face show neither attraction nor repulsion._

_All of the people are lean, almost scrawny. The fires hold meager meals. Vanyel glances at the cave beyond his shoulder. It is small compared to the big one near the people. A fire burns at the mouth of it, and a wooden rack is neatly set over it. A leather cauldron bubbles softly and the smell of food swirls  in the air. The liquid inside is a rich brown, with vegetables and chunks of meat that bubble to the surface. Then his colourless eyes come back to the people._

_They are dark in complexion and mien. Dark hair and skin. No sound of laughter is heard in the wind._

_Vanyel turns his shoulders toward them, nocks the spear in the spear-thrower and looks attentively at the patch of disturbed ground before throwing it. The spear lands in the circle and vibrates a little there. The white child smiles._

_He goes to take it back and is nocking it again when a noise is heard from the camp. The pale child frowns and goes back to his watching post. His feet makes no noise, and he raises a leather hood over his head. He kneels behind a bush and stares._

_Some more men are entering the camp, coming from the yellow prairies. They carry a strange prey: an animal, with four hooves, a fleshy hump on its back, a long, curved neck and a pointy snout. From hooves to hump it is around 3 feet high and evidently a young. They have tied its legs and passed a pole between them, and two men are carrying it._

_The child's eyes don't linger long on the game, for another two men are carrying a child, each with a heavy hand on his slim shoulders. The child is different from the others. His hair is the colour of straw. His little face is black and yellow from bruises and a tickle of blood runs from his nose to his split lip. Vanyel’s hand grips the spear convulsively._

_The white child jumps onto his feet and looks around with jerking movements. Then he starts to run toward the rocky slope. He scrambles up, leaving the spear behind. He climbs fast and well, his movements almost a dance, barely upsetting the pebbles. His path seems random, but it brings him just above the big cave, hidden behind a scanty bush that had managed to survive on the cliff._

_The child is panting from the exertion and his white hands are tinted with red blood. One nail is badly broken and hangs from the finger. He kneels on the narrow ledge with the ease of one who has done it before and stands very, very still._

_Some words come to him, carried by the wind._

_"Brother and sister shouldn't... Wrongborn... Steals prey... His fault... Cursed us..."_

_Vanyel thins his lips and his eyes fix on the man who is speaking. He is a tall man. Taller than the others. His shoulders are wide, but his leather clothes hang from him. There are torn beads and what remains of a decoration. His cheeks are sunken. He is screaming, and as such the words came easily. He is gesturing toward the child and talking to the men and women who were hammering on stones. They aren't anymore. They sit still and look at the child with the straw-coloured hair._

_"My siblings... Dishonor... Kill…"_

_At the last word the white child’s back tenses and his hand reaches for something and find a big stone, as big as half his head. Vanyel watches Flint. He is awake and upright. His stance is tense and his slender shoulders slightly bowed. Then he raises his head and speaks something, hotly, but his younger voice is not carried to the white child on the rocky cliff._

_The big man raises an hand and strikes Flint, hard. The child falls to the ground and, if he makes a sound, it is not heard up on the edge._

_For an instant, half a breath, Vanyel stays very, very still, as still as the stone around him. Then he raises the stone he took taken before. He looks carefully, dispassionately, at the scene below him. The White child raises the stone behind his head and hauls it with all his strength. Then he throws himself with his back on the cliff and lets the bush covers him._

_A woman's screams and the white child, looking at the blue sky, smiles. Then several voices are heard, but no words. The pale child smiles some more and waits, still as marble. He sucks on his injured finger, wincing a little._

_Time passes. The white child peeks between the scrub. The man who struck Flint is lying on the ground, the stone Vanyel threw at him lies close to his head. The back of his head is smashed and blood oozes out of it, soaking the pebbles. Women and men are moving around, some without aim, some bringing pails of water. Children are crying. Some people are looking at the sky._

_Flint is nowhere to be seen, and neither is his prey. Where the small cave is, the smoke of the campfire is thicker. There are no people on the part of the hill where the small cave lies, and no sounds._

_Vanyel nods to himself, smiles, and adjusts himself more comfortably. He takes out from under his clothes the oval stone set in gold and plays with the ever-changing colours that the light brings forth from the white surface._

_He waits._

_Hours pass, the shadows lengthen. The sun touches the horizon beyond the prairie, tinting the World in red and yellow. The White child carefully stands and stretches his muscles. Then he starts down the path down the cliff, with care. It takes him longer, but there is no hurry this time in his movements. When his feet touch the ground, he looks around with care and stops at the place where he left the spear in his hurry to scale the slope. There is nothing here. He nods and walks towards the cave._

_The fire is still burning green wood, with a thick smoke, but the leather cauldron is not here. In its place, there is a rake with several strips of meat over it. The skin of the animal he saw brought in by the hunter hangs from a square frame, ready to be treated. Noises come from the inside, somebody walking and moving things around. Fast._

_The White child enters the small cave._

_"Flint? It is me."._

_The child with the hair akin to straw is squatting in front of a wooden bow, busily mixing something. There is little light inside, and the sun tints everything in red. Flint's eyes are wide and absent, his little face is bruised._

_Vanyel kneels at his side and take his chin in a hand, colourless eyes mapping it. His lips thin._

_"It was you, wasn't it? Everybody thought it was... The spirit punishing Koar, because there was no life sign over the slope. But it was you."_

_Vanyel blinks and watches Flint for a while, frowning. Then his brow clears and he nods._

_"Ah, the man who stuck you. Yes, it was me." The voice of the White child is detached and dismissive. As he speaks, he stands up and goes to a rake of dried herbs and starts searching among them. "You should have put a compress on those bruises, Flint. They would heal faster."_

_Both children are not speaking in the language of the people of the big cave beyond the hills. This tongue is smoother, more fluid, and Vanyel speaks it with the ease of a native. Flint's words are coarse and rough._

_"You killed him."_

_The White child stops pouring herbs into a saucer and turns towards the tanned child. Flint's eyes are huge, black cavities in a brightly coloured face._

_The sun sets behind the prairies, and the small cave is shrouded in darkness._

_Vanyel sighs and lights the lamps, simple rendered fat with a wick of fur put in natural hollows of the cave. The light is oily and the shadows deepen._

_"I thought I had. Put this on your wounds." Flint takes the compress and puts it on his face, wincing. Vanyel's small fingers run lightly down the lines of his jaw, and around his eye sockets. "Nothing seems broken, at least. Good." The White child stops speaking and cocks his head, looking at Flint._

_"It bothers you that I did." There is surprise in the clear, immature voice._

_Flint nods, then stops. He gulps and falls on the ground. Vanyel falls with him._

_"Yes. No. I do not know. He is my uncle, the brother of my parents. He had wanted me to be dead since my birth..."_

_Vanyel shrugs and starts to light the fire inside, the night fire. "He wanted to kill you. I killed him. You are my Dhil'a and I shall protect you. Every time I can."_

_The fire roars inside the cave. Vanyel goes outside, and checks the strips of meat. Then he comes back and watches Flint, critically._

_"I shall do the chores. Rest now."._

_The Human child goes to the resting place, furs neatly put on the ground and sits here, watching Vanyel. The White child brings in the smoked meat and puts away the rakes. He extinguishes the fire outside._

_"I am wrongborn. After I came, after my father and mother went away, everything went awry. There is less game. There is less water. And the winters are getting colder..."_

_The child speaks haltingly, in gulps not unlike hiccups. Vanyel listens. Then he sits on the sleeping furs and puts his arm around Flint. He places the straw head on his slim shoulder. He presses his brow against Flint's._

_"It is not your fault. I know it."_

_There is complete certainty in the voice of the White child, and his tone is serious. Flint opens his one good eye and watches his companion. Colourless gaze meets a stonelike one. Neither looks away._

_"How can you know?" There is defiance in the tone. The shadows deepen while the stars blink from the narrow opening of the cave. When Vanyel speaks, his tone is slow and quiet._

_"Because this is why I am here. This is what we shall do, you and I. Save your kind... and mine. For we are Dhil'a. We are sent to save the World."_


	9. Sea Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, greatest of thanks to Carlile and Sand Dun, my betas <3  
> And to Andromeda-Aires, without whom I would never get this far :)

** Chater Seven: Sea Snake **

_Every sixty miles of the White Roads there is a Dkar Mgron, or White Inn. The owners of these are given the same status as the monks of the White Temples, and are under direct order of the White Prophet or, in his absence, the Prior. The money that comes from these inns belongs to the Prophet, as well, creating a vast, and useful, network of information gatherers and making the Prophet financially independent from the rulers of Clerres. White Inns are sacred ground, as the White Road is, and violence inside one has not been known to have happen in recorded history. The ban of alcoholic beverages is only partly the cause of such a startling, for a western observer, fact. But for the people of Clerres, journeys are as holy as instrumental and the Dkar Mgron as much a place to rest while traveling as a place to meditate._

_Aesthetically, all the Dkar Mgron are the same. The buildings are deceptively simple: two square made of stone, covered in white lacquered wood, one smaller than the other, the smallest one on top. The roofs are delicately curved with white-clay shingles. The lower roof extends to create a veranda, supported by four pillars. The stables are on the side. White Inns are usually situated in the middle of the road, and as such there is no clear back or front._

 

I had to pay for the afternoon of pleasure I took with my friend. Vien cornered me that evening, and I had to work on my retinue for the upcoming journey, for the White Prophet had to travel all the White Road for it to count as a true Dkar Lam and I, as the King, would have to travel with him.

I thought long on whom would come with us. My friend has surely prepared his own already, with the monks that would be left at the White Inns. An added difficulty was the fact that, at half of the travel, we would leave the road to meet the Khams in the jungle, and not many would wish to come and as such would have to stay behind 'till our return.

In the end, I handed the list to Vien, who read it. His eyebrow shot upward and he regarded me with black eyes.

"I see Suen Bright Jade on the list, my liege. A good choice." I nodded, stretching my back. My study is a room of lacquered, golden wood inlaid with amber. My desk and my chair are done in the Six Duchies way, by my design.

"Yes. I doubt that Suen Baojia will attempt anything with his daughter with us. And they can't refuse. It is too much of a honor."

He nodded, and put the list in his sleeve. He hesitated. I looked at him. The lamplight gave strange shadows to his features. He breathed in, before speaking slowly.

"I... have noticed the White Prophet coming to your room, this afternoon. I do not wish to pry, my King! But... if there is something that needs to be known..." His troubled voice stirred me. I watched him again, noticing the darkness under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. I would have never been made King of Vietmar, let alone kept the position, if not for his help and loyalty. I turned my eyes to watch the lamp. I am still unused to elicit loyalty in others. I had always been the giver, not the receiver, of such a gift. Yet now I understood how heavy a burden it can be. I thought of Verity, and Shrewd, and their use of me. And then it happened again. I suddenly saw with another’s eyes. I saw me, a boy and a young man. And I saw the load they had created for themselves, by fostering fealty inside me toward the Farseers. I shook my head. Thoughts for another day.

"The White Prophet and I... we go back a long time, Vien," I said, slowly. Suddenly, I felt this young man had right to know. "Even before my coming to Clerres, knew each other."

He frowned, uncomprehending. He looked at me, and saw a man in his prime. The Prophet had been in Clerres for thirty years now. I measured him and wondered how much I could say to him. But I had to appease his fears.

"I am... older than I look. Much older.". He nodded slowly. I sighed.

"You can go. I will try to—" I did not finish the phrase when I heard a tendril of Skill reach for me. Both Vien and I blinked and locked eyes. We both had recognized the Skilled one behind the call.

I frowned and reached back with the Skill, through the Skill-bond that unites me to my Solos. The presence of Bitter Moon was not unlikely her name: soft and strange. Bitter Moon is a woman that some would call past her prime, but her strength and her Skill are greater than many younger than her, women and men alike.

_My King. I bear tidings._

_Speak, Bitter Moon. I am listening._

_Prince Chien and Skillmaster Chyne are coming to Fisil on our faster ship. They will be on the shore the day after tomorrow, at dawn._

My surprise was so great that I almost lost contact with Bitter Moon. Vien frowned. He was listening, as well. A look of alarm passed on his face at hearing of it.

 _The cub is coming?_ I tried to hush Snowcloud, who had raised her head from her paws under the desk.

_I... am here, with the Queen. She may speak to you, through me. It may be better, my liege._

I blinked again and gripped the brush I had used to pen the list.

 _Please, do_. I waited. Chundra had never had problems with the Skill, showing a remarkable interest in it, if possessing no Skill herself. I sometimes think she is passing the information she learns to her sister, the Queen of Uzkabat. But, as we are allies, I have never made an effort to discover it.

 _Good Evening, Chihn_. I sighed. Vien and Bitter Moon retreated in the background, and blocked their Skill to not eavesdrop. Snowcloud, of course, showed no such regard.

_And to you, Chundra. Now, please, tell me why the Prince is coming here now. Not the polished lies for the Lords, the truth._

_My, my. Such a haste_. I fear my concern for Chien showed in the link, for she sobered. _No, our son is in no danger, Chihn. No physical danger, at least. But yester eve I saw him playing. One of his toy-soldiers was hitting the other one, and he called the one who was being hit ‘Daman Vua’. Add to this that I know Dhihn is attempting to spend more time with him than he should. Little children's minds are easy to influence, and I want none of that for him. Better to nip it now than to let it fester. And Chyne wished to come speak with you in any case. She will take care of him, and his nanny is with them. He will be fine. And so he can start to know the Khams and Waitan._

I frowned. I supposed she was right, mostly. But I couldn't help but wonder if she had other reasons of her own to want Chien with me now.

_Too late to object, I fear. You should have told me before setting the child on a ship, Chundra._

I perceived, more than heard, her laughter. _Have they not taught you, Chihn? For royalty it is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. The Khams need to know their Prince and future King. And he needs to learn from them, when he is young enough not to know differently, or Waitan will never stay part of Vietmar._

I sighed. I could see her logic, but having Chien, un-Witted, among the Khams still made me uncomfortable.

_I'll take care of him._

_I know you will. That is why I sent him. You should be careful about Dhihn, Chihn. He spent time with the White Prophet during his visit. He was quite creative in managing to have a private audience with him, too. Take care, and stay safe._

I felt the Skill-link waver and Bitter Moon broke it off. I shook my head to clear it and looked at Vien.

"Add Chien and his nanny to that list, Vien. He will come.".

Vien nodded, without a word, bowed and left. I rose to my feet and looked at Snowcloud. Her tail was wagging happily.

_Do not try to pretend you aren't pleased._

_Of course I am, brother mine! The little cub is coming, and so is our she-cub! Those are good tidings._

She wormed out from under the desk and shook herself all over. She barked happily and stuttered to her cot.

I undressed and went to bed. I had managed to keep Vien out of this part of my life 'til now, though he insisted on helping me disrobe. I extinguished the lamp and looked, without seeing, at the ceiling above and tried to sort out what I had just learnt.

That Dhihn, Sendàr's Huan, hated me was not new. He had never approved of his Lord choosing me, but then again, he had not been chosen by Sendàr either. Sendàr's longest living father, King Than, had chosen Dhihn as Huan for his son when Sendàr was around his sixteen years of age, and Dhihn was far older than Sendàr had been, though younger than me. I smiled wryly. Most men were younger than me. That he would be trying to turn Chien against me I thought as a given, but not that he would start so soon. The boy was just past his second birthday. But perhaps that was Dhihn's plan. Chundra was right, seeds planted into little minds grew with them. Also, why had Dhihn sought a private audience with my friend?

My last thought, before sleep claimed me, was that I had once been wary of such politics. I feel asleep and, for the first time in many years, dreamt of my childhood in Buckkeep.

I woke the morning afterward with a Skill-headache. A mild one, compared to those I used to have, but the light of the sun on my eyelids sent a stab of pain through my head. I moaned. Then I gritted my teeth and started the exercise. I had to go through it thrice before completing it, and twice more before the dull pain in my head receded enough to allow me to open my eyes and cautiously sit up on my bed. I rubbed my face with my hand and stood still.

_Serves you right, Changer. You should stop trying to Skill-dream, brother mine. Our ancient territory is not our hunting ground anymore, and is fraught with danger._

I groaned at Snowcloud’s lazy comment.

_And good morning to you, Sister._

I heard her amused yapping as she scrambled to her pawns. I blinked and watched the mannequin where Vien had set my clothes. The tunic and trousers were a warm amber, with black embroidery, while the sash was black with gold seams entwined in the weave. I stood and dressed myself carefully, breathing slowly to disperse some more of the botched attempt at Skilling so far away overnight.

I perceived Vien outside the door and turned to watch him enter. He closed the door with his shoulder, for his hands were occupied with a tray. He raised an eyebrow at me, setting the tray on the table on my bedroom. I sighed. White rice, light soup and a bitter tea. I breathed it. Willow bark tea. I sat to eat and regarded my Huan critically. He had known I had attempted to Skill, however unwittingly, and knew well the result of it. Still, I found the amount of knowledge Vien had of me unnerving. My assassin’s training went deep. One who knows your secret is a threat. I knew Vien to be completely loyal to me. Yet his kindness tensed me. I breathed deeply and drank the tea to ease the pounding of my head. I watched the rice and the soup blankly, before forcing myself to eat.

Vien cleared his throat. I looked at him.

"Kim-Ly has sent you Gao with a note, my liege." I frowned and set down my spoon, the rice forgotten.

"I see. Let him come in." I paused. "And bring the other tray in, as well."

Vien's eyes widened a fraction and I hid a smile. I could perceive his surprise through our Skill-link.

"You know well I would have ordered you to get something for the boy. I doubt not you have already provided it." His countenance relaxed and he smiled slightly before bowing and leaving. I folded my hands over the table and stared at them. Still rough, still callous and tanned. But the fabric was finer than anything ever seen in Buckkeep. An amber bracelet, flint and amber beads, hung on my wrist. I stared at it. A Jewel-Flint, the symbol of Clerres. I had had no news from my birth country in more than fifteen years. I raised my head and watched the blue sky outside, following the path of gulls. Prosper would be a strong man, now, in the end of his second decade of life. Bravery and Cunning, the twins Elliana bore five years after Prosper's birth, would be past their adolescence as well. I wondered if Kettricken lived still, and Starling and Molly. I so hoped she had found happiness after my leaving. I knew she had forgiven me, more than either child I sired, and I had often thought of her, as the years went by, wishing her long life and joy. I wondered if Hap lived and if he had children, himself. Something clenched in my chest and I thought of Dutiful and Nettle. I hoped they were well. I hoped...

The door opened and Gao walked in. I turned my head toward him, trying to banish the thoughts and headache. The child bowed. "Sit down, Gao," I invited. The child eyed the chair before sitting. People of Clerres find chairs as puzzling as I find their lack of them. Snowcloud trotted over to the table, leaving the bone she had been gnawing, and put her head on Gao's knees. The child petted her between her ears and I smiled.

Vien came in with the tray of sweets, candied ginger and sweet noodle-soup, and tea. Gao broke into a smile. I gestured at him to start but he hesitated and took a deep breath.

"There is an Iduyans' shaman in the Suen House," he announced, pride in his immature voice, still scratching Snowcloud.

Both Vien and I stood frozen. I pressed my lips and slowly leaned on the seatback, crossing my arm. "Continue, Gao."

The child shook his head, taking a piece of candied ginger. "I do not know much more. The shaman had come with many people from Liantharin..." He paused and chewed on his lower lip, frowning. "Of Liantharin's origin. They have sailed from Seel, not Dushanbe."

I nodded and exchanged glances with Vien.

"And I think Suen House is illegally importing charms from Iduyans. That would explain the shaman, as well." He looked at me with pride. I watched him and thought of what he had said. I nodded, slowly.

"Thank you for your work, Gao. It is appreciated." I let him eat, now, and studied him. Boyishly, he viewed those tidings as a thing impersonal to him. I knew they were not. But I also contemplated him and saw a growing boy. Still a child, but not for long. I felt myself pondering what to make of him. Then I thought of Chien. Gao was Witted, though I knew not how strong his magic was, as he was too young to tell. Chien was not.

"Gao." He raised his eyes to meet mine, in the Liantharinan way. "I have a task for you." Something in my tone must have warned him, for he lowered the bowl of sweet soup and listened, attentively.

"No one but me knows this yet, but Prince Chien is coming to Waitan. It is possible that he will stay here for a long time." I paused. "I want you to watch over him, for all that could befall on him. Take care of him. He is a prince, but he is still very, very little. He will be here with his nanny, but she isn't knowledgeable in the way of the court. Be an older brother to him." I know not who was more shocked, Vien or Gao. The child looked at me with eyes as big as saucers and Vien was ramrod straight at my side. But I simply regarded Gao levelly. Slowly, very slowly, the child nodded.

Then he stood and bowed. "I shall protect the little Prince with my life, my King." His voice was still so childish, and still so serious that chills shivered over my body. Yet I nodded.

"I know you will. Say no word of this, to no live soul." Three pairs of eyes were watching me.

 _Well done, brother mine. This cub will make a good pack-mate for our he-cub. He is good at tracking the game. We should teach him to hunt._ I sighed and almost shook my head.  

_I do not know, Sister. I do not know._

_Nonsense. You do. You just think too much about it. Stop it. It makes my head ache._

When the door closed behind Gao, I sighed and waited. But Vien offered no words. I turned to him, and found a well-known, speculating gaze in his eyes.

"A well thought act, my Lord. Prince Chien is an easy boy to have around. And the difference of age is not so great that they could not become friends, in adulthood."

I smiled wryly and felt something cold and hard in my chest, around my heart. "I gave Gao to Chien, Vien. What gave me the right to?" In my mind, I saw a boy wavering his loyalty between his grandfather and his uncle, and saw the currents and ebbs that flowed my life toward Verity. I thought of the Fool and his homage to his king. Would the past have been different had I chosen Shrewd? Would the future be?

 _Your penchant to come back to the rotting kills of your past never ceases to astonish me, brother. There is no shame in walking away from bones, Changer. It is done. Leave it be. It will only give you a bellyfull of hurt._ I glanced at Snowcloud, sometimes so similar to her grandfather that it brought pangs to my chest.

I expected Vien to remind me of my status. What he said added another layer to my already jumbled thoughts. "You could say as well that you gave Chien to Gao, my King.".

I observed Vien, but had nothing more to say. I shrugged, trying to lose the mixed feeling I’d had since awakening.

"Suen House's shaman is a matter of consideration. Of course, the easiest possibility is that they just desire to enter the official trade of charms, and have brought it here to be demanded worthy."

I looked at the skepticism on Vien's face and could not help smiling.

"I have told you several times, Vien. One must not close to any possibility. It may belong to the Chuvan, the Odul or the Khoromoy, and so may not be one of our enemies. Not a little of our riches depends on the trade of Iduyan's charms, and all of them pass through Silvarin and then Fisil. House Suen has been unable up until now to locate a suitable shaman from one of the three tribes who have not attacked Clerres to make charms for them. Perhaps now they have.".

I saw his lips tighten and his slim shoulders tense.

"You know my thoughts on it, my liege. They do not know the right ways, do not recognize the White Wisdom, or ..."

"They are not of Clerres." Vien failed to see the trap in my words and nodded so vigorously that his bound hair danced on his shoulders.

"Yes! They are untrustworthy and deceitful..."

"And what does it make me, Vien?" I watched him squarely in the eyes. He stood frozen a moment and seemed to deflate, his head bowed low and his back lowered a little, his hands in his sleeves. Silence stretched between us. Snowcloud chewed her bone and watched us, but her mind was closed to me.

"This is... not what I meant, my Liege." His voice was a strained whisper. I bite my lips. It was never my aim to question Vien’s loyalty. I know how deeply such a supposition from one Lord can devastate a Huan. I stood up and nodded. "I know, Vien. I do not doubt your loyalty or your faith. But think more, before judging all the Iduyans's tribes. Three of the thirteen are not our enemies."

Vien let out a breath and watched out, his face pinched. I wished I had not spoke. Our eyes locked, and he must have seen the regret in mine, because his features softened. He nodded, and I let the subject drop.

"We will keep a close watch over Suen House. The fact that Bright Jade will come with us will help in this."

I watched out of the window, too. The sun had risen only a little over the ocean, and a strong wind battered the coast.

"If they want to trade legally, they must present it to me before my departure. There is not much time. If they don't before our departure, we will know they are traitors." And I would have to kill. At least Baojia. Possibly others. I felt my headache came back.

_And to think that the day is just at his half, brother mine._

I groaned at Snowcloud's comment. I was already feeling so tired that I thought longingly of the bed. But I had a duty, and so I finished getting dressed and stepped out of my rooms. I had much to do, still, before all was ready for the departure to Silvarin. I glanced out the window. I have often marveled at how time passes when one is Skilling. The sun was almost at his peak already.

Dimly, I wondered how my friend was faring, and I hoped he was doing better than I was.

_I do not know Changer. I heard the strong bitch say she planned to talk with "Amber" today._

I groaned. I was not the only one who would have a hard day, at least.


	10. Wasp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my deepest thanks to Carlile and Sand Dun.  
> And to Andromeda-Aries *_* I am still working on the Fool!Plushie! In our next email I'll send you some photos :D

** Chapter Eight: Wasps **

 

_[...] It is well-know that the Prophets need not what us, childish humans, need for ourselves. Don't the most ancient Scrolls say "The Whites' eyes dostn't shed tears"? They are unaffected by us, for they have to bring forth the Future, and it can't follow men's whims. Heed their words, and the World will go onward as it should. Nothing can be negated to them, and no one should dither on following their words and deeds._

From a conversation overheard in Kasbes' market in Uzkabat.

 

I had little time for leisure. I went to talk to Kim-Ly to make arrangement for the little prince while Vien dispatched the invite for my retinue. The whole castle was in turmoil, for all the people who had be invited would first be presented to me, as I knew not them all already, and then there would be dance and a banquet. I was not looking forward to any of it.

A King can't stroll in his own Kingdom, I have found. Oh, I can walk everywhere, and in all place I would be welcome in words and deeds if not in thoughts and actions. But every eye is always on watch for what am I to doing, or about to do. The only way I can find peace is by disguising myself, as I did the day before. I looked at the door in a sour mood. I could go outside as I wished, but the truth is that I would be underfoot and observed. Not for the first time, King Chihn was like too narrow clothes, constricting and chafing. Discontent washed through me. I felt soured, and when the thought that it was clothes I would wear for just other sixteen or so years came to my mind, I recoiled. How much had I changed, to think thusly? How much of human was still in me? I passed my hand over my face and pressed my lips grimly.

_Brother, stop wallowing. Come and take fresh air, it would do you good._

I turned towards Snowcloud who was pawing at the door towards the terrace. I glared at her, but she merrily ignored me and barked, scratching the wood some more.

_You will scratch the door._

_Good. Then come and open it_.

I sighed and bitterly did as she wanted. The fresh air of the sea hit me, the smell clear and sharp and true, full of small drops of water. I breathed in, and my mind cleared a little. I glowered at Snowcloud again, but I went to the balcony and put my hand on the banister, and thought of the journey ahead, to divert my mind from grimmer considerations. The wind was so strong it stung my eyes and rattled the widows behind me. I looked at the town in concern, but Fisil was built to withstand stronger seas than that day and it went to its business. I smiled with pride at the ships sailing from the harbor and into it. In my travels, I had seen beautiful cities and wretched towns both and all that is in between. When I came to Waitan, I resolved to make of the two cities accorded with the Khams places of beauty and richness without the feebleness that often accompany them. I took pride in both Fisil and Silvarin, but had I ever lived up to my resolve? The people of Fisil seemed to have forgotten the Khams' blood sheds on the ground they lived on. So did most of the Khams. I had not. My sour mood left me unable to appreciate the beauty of my city. I watched at it and saw only the deaths it caused in order to exist. I turned my eyes to the sea.

Snowcloud put her forepaws on the railing and raised her muzzle to smell the hair.

_I'll be glad to travel in the jungle again, brother mine. And with two of our cubs!_

I smiled at her wagging tail and tried to shock my foul temper. Knowing there was nothing admirable about my attitude did nothing to improve it.

_And are you looking forward to the charm, too?_

I perceived her sigh and she put her big head on her paws. I felt slightly guilty. I had no reason to make her miserable only because I was. I knew well how she hated the charms used to kept insects at bay.

_No. You know I dislike them, Changer. Perhaps I'll accept the mosquitoes, this time._

She looked up at me, and lolled her tongue.

_And you will have to explain to the Scentless One that he had been accepted by the Khams by the fact you made him Nguoi'Yeu, brother mine. It took you much time to get all the gifts and necessary to properly honor him. Does he knows that you have done it all in his name?_

I groaned and passed my hand on my aching forehead.

_No. You know he should have never known of it. Had Sendàr lived, he would have presented the White Road to the White Prophet, not me. He would never have gone to the Jungle. He wouldn't have known that he was Nguoi'Yeu by my action._

She shrugged from nose-tip to tail-tip.

_I am glad Sendàr is dead._

I blinked at her words and looked at her, puzzled. She only lolled her tongue at me and jumped to wash my face. I made an exclamation, but smiled again and scratched her throat. I set my eyes on the direction of Liantharin and thought of House Suen.

Suen Baojia was a shrewd merchant. He had not left Liantharin because of the war, it was said, but because of his two children. Bright Jade and Ghuozi were twins, and the custom of Liantharin does not favor twin, at least if one of the pair is female. In that case, the boy should be left to die, not to steal food and resource from the female heir. Baojia and his wife, Chrysanthemum, resolved to sell their lands and to come to Waitan, together with other refugees. I have often noticed how wealth is relative:what is plenty in one place is considered irrelevant to what is scarce. So House Suen, not great in assets among the many Houses of Liantharin, was the richest of the newly founded Fisil. I highly respected the man for his acumen, and for his evident love for his family and children. Yet, House Suen belonged to Kuan, and I had no such esteem for the pretender to the throne of Liantharin. His daughter, Bright Jade, was unknown to me. As she was the heir of the House, I planned to use the time ahead to know her better. But I had heard of Ghuozi, most recent by Citymaster Lang. He was said to be headstrong and wistful, loud and undiplomatic in his opinion. He belonged to a group of troublesome young men, more prone to drink and brawling than to learn a trade. The Citymaster had dealt with them on many occasions, but I had pity for the boy. He had no liking for his father's trade, no place and no finery. He reminded me a little of Hap, even if my boy had never gone to Ghuozi's excess.

Citymaster Lang son, Heng, would come as well. I had only seen the boy twice, and both time he had been quiet in the background of my meeting with his father. He reminded me of Fizek. As the Citymaster had no daughter, Heng was his heir. Other notables would include Harbormaster Mei and Tay, the Aspyrgend. His role is to ensure observance of the pact between the Khams and the Kingdom of Vietmar. Aside from them, Vien, Gao, Chyne, Chien and me, there would also been ten guards, all choose and well know by me, four cooks and a honestly too great number of valets and general servants. And, of course, the White Prophet retinue.

I groaned. The only thought that made it all bearable was that only Aspyrgend Tay, Chyne, Chien, Gao and my friend would come with me to the Jungle to meet the Khams.

_And me._ Snowcloud comment jolted me from my musing. I rubbed my salt-reddened eyes and watched her, curled at my feet.

_You and I shall never be parted, Sister._

She rose and shook herself, before stretching. _True that. Now, Changer, you would do good at coming back inside. You don't have the sense of a cub, to stay in the wind._ I smiled, bemused despite myself.

_Who told me to come out in the first place?_

_I have no idea of what you are talking about._

Chuckling, I came back indoors, and went to wash and tend to my garb. I had no spent so much time grooming in all my life as in the nine years I had been king. Vien would be back soon. Snowcloud went at the bowl of minced meat and vegetables laid on the ground for her, but I ignored the plates on the table. I was not hungry.

The first part of the afternoon I spent dressing and combing myself with Vien's help. He insisted that I should wear the jewel-flint earring of Vietmar, and in the end I relented, but succeeded in avoid to have to don the coronet as well.

My black and amber garb still distressed him, however. I shrugged it off. I was not of Clerres. I would never be.

The main hall was full of people. The smell of perfume and flowers was so intense I felt nauseous. Tawny draperies embroidered with ambers and all the colour of soft brown hung from the walls, and rich carpets underfoot dulled the sounds.

I went inside, carefully avoiding all the eyes, and pretended not to notice how everyone stood silent as soon as I came in. People left me the central aisle, bowing so deep that I could see only their backs. Still, I recognized the Citymaster's House, House Suen, the Harbormaster and others. I ignored them all, but I almost stood still at noticing my friend. My gait halted for a second.

He was sit on the second of the twin thrones. They are common in all the palaces of Vietmar, for both Kings need a throne to sit upon if need arise. In Waitan, the second throne had until now never been used, and my friend, as was his right, was sit on it. He was as still and quiet as a statue, but it was his attire that surprised me so. He was dressed in the full regalia of the White Prophet, and white it was. It had none of the beads and embroideries that both Clerres and I were used at seeing upon him. Immobile, on the he looked like an effigy of a time past, in wood and bronze, gold and amber. His hair was flowing freely, sleek and fine, on his white shoulders, and the walnut colour of it contrasted with the paleness of the clothing. His elegant hands rested on the engraved armrest almost like an extension of it. His fine features were detached and haughty. He looked so much like Vanyel that for a second I thought I was seeing that True White of old. I blinked and went to take my place.

I sat on my throne and Snowcloud laid herself at my feet as was her wont, while Vien took his place at my shoulder, behind the throne. My companion perked her ears up and watched my friend, then the crowd. I could not turn my head to face the Fool, but I could glance at him with the corner of my eyes. What I saw confused me even more, for he seemed as cold and distant as the glacier of Aslejval. I chalked his iciness to his meeting with Jek. She must have been hard to him.

I turned my attention to the people in front of me and steadied myself to a long afternoon.

Only the general invite, to the House, had been sent in the morning by Vien. By being called by me, they would know which one would come.

I breathed in and rehearsed the words that Vien had taught me and the correct order.

"Came forth, Tiàn Heng for Tiàn House".

Heng came. I studied the lad as he walked towards me, his head bowed. He wasn't tall, and his body had the softness of his father. He was dressed in his best finery, in the colours of Vietmar. I dimly noticed how people can get used to beauty, to the point of not noticing it almost anymore. His features, when he raised his face to speak, were plain and hefty, but his dark brown eyes were keen and sharp. I liked him instantly.

"My Lord, I come to thee at thine behest. I shall follow thee hence and for all."

I nodded.

"So shall be, Tiàn Heng. I welcome thee in my Castle"

I gestured with my hand and Heng bowed deeply, taking place at my right. Snowcloud yawned at my feet. I nudged at her.

_Bored._

_Already, Sister?_ I couldn't help being amused.

_Yes. Very bored. You should try to do it the way of wolves and dog, sometimes, brother mine._

I envisioned the notables and me saluting as dogs do and repressed a shudder. _I do not think it wise._

_Perhaps no. But amusing._

I repressed a snort and eyed my friend. He sat completely motionless, to the point I wondered if he blinked. I felt my wrist burning and a stab of pain in my temples. I checked myself before rubbing them and retreated the Skill-tendrils I had started towards what wasn't there anymore. Hadn't been there for more than three decades.

I turned to the Hall.

"Come forth, Suen Bright Jade for Suen House"

The young woman walked confidently down the aisle. Her black hair was pinned in a complicated hairdress on her head. She was also dressed in her best garb, but my eyes trailed briefly on the green of Liantharin interlocking with the tawnier colours of Vietmar. I almost betrayed myself with expression, but managed to catch myself in time.

"My Lord, I come to thee at thine behest. I shall follow thee hence and for all."

Her voice had the slight tilt of the Liantharian, and her face, when she raised it, was homely despise the cosmetics and paints. Her lips were set and her shoulder tensed like she was going fight, not to face her King. Snowcloud stirred and raised her head to look at Bright Jade. I noticed the young woman shifting her weight.

"So shall be, Suen Bright Jade. I welcome thee in my Castle"

She bowed but, instead of walking to stand close to Heng, she kept the position. I frowned.

"My King, I come to ask to thee leave, for House Suen has found a shaman, of the Khoromoy Tribe, willing to craft for us."

I watched Bright Jade bent, stiff back, and needed not to turn my head to perceive the shift in the hall. I did not move. I could almost feel Chade beside me, telling me to be calm and to watch, not to rush. I breathed out softly.

"Came it forth, then, Bright Jade, so it might speak for itself" The mildness of my voice shocked me first and I could feel my friend looking sideways at me. His presence gave me comfort. I relaxed a little. It was nothing not anticipated.

_The bitch-cub thinks she is fighting pack against pack, brother mine. But she still has much to learn. Sharp claws, though, if soft still._ Snowcloud's tongue lolled sideways. I could hear her amusement, but I did not divert my eyes from Bright Jade. My Wit-partner's senses were keener, though, and I could almost smell the feeling ripping over the people like wind made weaves over the sea. The fear and uncertainty in the room was almost palpable.

I did not tense. I was the King.

Then a creature stepped from behind the concentration of people that was House Suen. The movement, in the sudden stillness, seemed almost loud, like a shattering of glass.

The Khoromoy's Shaman stood in a circle of emptiness, everybody avoiding the immediate vicinity of it. A whole bison fur laid from his shoulders to the ground, littered with beads, and I noticed the way people looked nervously at them, even if they were not charms that I could see. In his right hand he held a short, stout stick with several coloured bands, and in his left the wide, round and shallow drum-shield, as wide around as my arm is long, that is the hallmark of the Iduyan's Shaman. That, and the mask.

The mask hug his head, a circlet of metal around his forehead from which three deer horns departed, weaved pieces of red and blue cloths between them. The same cloths hung in front of its face, like a veil of shredded fabrics, preventing everybody from seeing it. A shaman is thusly called only if it has with it the drum-shield and the mask, and when it dons them, it lacks gender and humanity, and as such it is called like neither male nor female. Otherwise, he or she is a common member of his or her tribe.

It was an uncanny vision inside the festive Main Hall, a barbaric creature from another time and space. Yet, I could see the clothes behind the furs, the normal garments of Vietmar. The costume had been hastily wore, for I could see the imperfection in the way the pelt hang from the lithe form of the shaman, and the slight tilt to the right of the mask. The presentation had been perfectly staged to gain exactly the reaction it was receiving. I only wondered why they had choose that moment, with the White Prophet present.

I waited, watching the Shaman and noticing the three parallel bands, the symbol of Khoromoy's tribe, on the drum-shield. I tried to memorize the little signs that could give it away in another setting, its height and build. Snowcloud gave a mental snort and raised her head to sniff the air, trying to catch its scent.

The shaman bowed its head.

"King Chihn, I, Shaman of Khoromoy, ask thy leave to craft charms for House of Suen."

The shaman had such an heavy accent that some of his words were mixed and garbled. I had to concentrate to understand it. My mind flew. I looked around briefly and noticed every eyes on me. My previous foul mood returned and I tensed.

"You are of tribe Khoromoy. Your request shall be looked into as soon as I return from the White Road" My voice was perhaps more clipped than it should have been, but I was on edge and frayed by the days afore. Too on edge to understand I was walking into a trap.

"Why should House Suen awaits for a lawful request? Let the White Prophet speaks. Let him give us His Wisdom on the matter."

I turned my head toward the voice, slowly. Suen Baojia looked at me, square in the eyes. I could see his tension in every line of his body, as well in the ones of all of his House. It was an attempt to force my hand in accepting this shaman as a legal creator of charms for commerce, in front of every member of the court. And it was an attempt to gain something by turning a King against a White Prophet, as well. This was not an uncommon trick in Clerres, but I had never heard of it being done in such a manifest fashion. I said nothing, and forced myself to lean on the throne. All people of Clerres can appeal to the Prophet. I had no right to stop Suen Baojia request.

And no idea about what my friend would say. What did he know of the Iduyan's tribes? On the law of Vietmar concerning the creation of charms? The people of Clerres live on believing the Prophet to understand all. I knew better.

"Suen Baojia, you claim your request is lawful?" The Fool's voice was even and quiet, not much above a whisper. But the room was so still you could hear the sound of people breathing.

I saw Suen Baojia hesitate and broke eyes contact with me. I almost smiled. It wasn't, and we both knew it.

"The law claims that all can ask to commerce in charms, provide they can present a shaman of one of the neutral tribe to craft for them." His wording was careful and precise, but his body bespoke the truth.

"And."

I watched the man, and almost feel pity for him. His hair was gray at the temple, and his face was pinched. Why had he tried such a simple trick? My friend was not so easily fooled. Did he truly thought the Prophet would help him, against the King? Perhaps he did. I was not of Clerres, after all.

"And give proof that the shaman is not being repaid in ways contrary to the laws of Clerres and Vietmar".

With the corner of my eyes, I saw my friend nod. "A wise law. Everybody knows that Iduyans care nothing for gold and jewels, and we don't want our children to be offered as payment. I say this: give the proof and it will be justly judged." He looked at the shaman, and gestured at him with a slim gloved hand. A member of House Suen I did not know went to speak to the shaman in the harsh, guttural language of the Iduyans. The shaman nodded and stepped back in line, lowering the drum-shield and the wooden scepter.

I could almost feel himself relax. I breathed out, and with me half of the room. I wondered why somebody would desire such a destiny ad Kings have and turned my eyes to Bright Jade, still bowing, and was going to speak the ritual words, when another voice broke the silence. In all fairness, I do not think the lad wanted to be heard. But the Main Hall was so silent still, that a pin falling would be clear to all.

"Father, speak up! Why should we listen to a False White?"

I had thought the chamber was without sounds before, but now a current of ice slowed inside. I froze. So did everybody in the room. I heard Vien sharp intake of breath from behind my shoulders. Even Snowcloud sat on her haunches and curled up her lips, showing her white teeth.

All the eyes were on House Suen. Suen Ghuozi tried to make himself small, for it was his voice that had bespoken. Baojia put an hand on his son shoulder and attempted to smile, but it was a rictus born of desperation. And the hopelessness in his voice gripped even my heart when he spoke, bowing so deeply that his forehead touched his knees. I thought of Chade and me, of a boy assassin who thought himself a man, and of the true assassin who watched him going to his death.

"Boys will be silly sometimes. My King, White Prophet, I thank you for your Wisdom. House Suen will do as you..." His hand on his son's shoulder tried to make him bow, but Ghuozi rebelled, shaking it away and looking directly at me and my friend.

"No! All know he is not a true Prophet. He was a wrong one, born out of his time. Look at him, he is not White anymore! The only reasons people accept this False Prophet is because they want Liantharin to be torn and bleeding, so that other countries may rise. So that the Barbarian may take us! As they are!"

I bite my cheek hard enough to make it bleed and Snowcloud growled loudly, echoing my feeling. The sound reverberated in the chamber, and I felt like it echoed in me, thrumming within my bones. I looked at the foolish boy and for a moment I saw another, one who had ran to the Main Hall of Buckkeep to kill the murders of his King, in front of all the court. I had signed my death warrant that day, taking a thoughtless revenge for my King's death. I was mad and drunk with Skill and Carris Seeds both, and I went to deal death to me and my foes akin laughing.

Ghuozi had just signed his life away. By the way his face paled, and by the chocked sound his father made, I think they knew. Bright Jade straightened up and turned sharply to face her family, a mangled cry of: "Brother!" in Liantharinan escaping her lips.

I felt suddenly heavy. I could not watch my friend face, and I gripped the armrest, feeling the cold of the metal and the polished smoothness of amber under my fingertips. How odd, to remember such trifles, when life and death await for us.

I stood up and raised my head, looking straight at Ghuozi. He was pale as a leaf of paper, and shaking slightly, but looked straight at me with a stubborn set on his jaw.

"Guards. Take him." I felt something close in my throat, muffling my words. "Bring him to the prisons, for he spoke treason against the Prophet."

My voice sounded so calm in the room. Three guards came, dressed in the ceremonial armors, and two of them took Ghuozi by his arms, while the third disentangled him from his father mad grip. I couldn't abide to watch Baojia while I took his son away from him, from what was nothing more than youthful indiscretion. I could not bear to face the choice of a man torn between his son, and the rest of his House.

I looked around and a sense of unreality came over me. Every shadow and colour was sharp, every noise heightened. I watched around, and could almost see the strings hanging from our limbs. The whole court was a scene, and we nothing but puppets made to dance to Fate's tune. Ghuozi was dragged away, in the silence. No one would speak for him. I blinked, and everything was back as it was.

I sat on my throne. I was trembling. Snowcloud watched me, but her mind offered no words. I dared not to look at my friend.

I gestured to Bright Jade to move towards where Tiàn Heng but she stood still, watching where her twin brother had been taken away with vacant eyes.

"Come forth, Aspyrgend Tay for the Khams"

My words snapped the Main Hall from its freeze. People moved around. A sense of rightness and respite filled the space. The fear and tenseness I had felt through Snowcloud's nose eased. The one who had spoken against the Prophet had been dealt with. By tomorrow, all would say how much the boy had deserved his fate. Surely, this is what the Dukes of the Six Duchies said of FitzChivalry Farseer, after my killing of Serene and Justin in front of their eyes.

Tay walked towards the throne, the small cat, his Wit-Companion draped over his shoulders and the ritual continued.

I watched the court saw them speaking with each other softly, saw the self-satisfied expression, and for a moment I keenly felt my distance from them. They could live and talk and leave the hard decisions to somebody else, and wallow in their self-satisfaction. I felt bile raising in my throat, and the shadow of the boy I used to be, with his anger and hate, shook inside me. Then I closed my eyes for a second and lowered my hand to pet Snowcloud between her ears and I went on, like the mechanical clocks I have seen in my travel, repeating what I had to say. I was a boy no more.

Snowcloud, in the simplicity of her life, had no words for me, but the feeling of her fur between my fingers comforted me.

As it had to, the ritual finished and I stood, realizing only then that I had been stiff during the whole time. I turned to my friend. His expression was far away, distant. I looked at him, and longed to console him, for surely the fate of Ghuozi rested heavily on his soul. He had always been soft, despite his quick wit and strong spirit.

"King Chihn, may the Future shine upon thee and thine. I shall return to my quarters" His voice was clear as always, but it sounded like it came from a great distance. I hesitated and bowed to him, and I had to, and wondered about speaking but decided against it. He seemed remote, detached. I resolved to go to him, later on. He needed his time and his space, that I knew well.

So he left, and I went to mingle and talk with notables and the people who would come with us. Everyone was talking and minstrels had come to make pleasant music. Nobody spoke of Suen Ghuozi. House Suen's members were nowhere to be seen. I noticed only Bright Jade, pallid in the shadows, during the dance performance some hours later, and looked away. House Suen had never been an ally, but now would be a personal enemy. The dancers were very good, for the people of Clerres prefer to watch dancers than to dance themselves during celebrations, but I could not take any pleasure from it.

_Pack against pack. The he-cub tried to challenge the leader of a more powerful one, and was killed. Not good, but it happens. Many cubs don't make to adulthood, brother mine. He should have left the leader of his own pack to fight._

I sighed and looked at Snowcloud.

_Humans aren't wolves, Snowcloud._ And, for one of the rare time, I wondered if it wasn't better, to be human than to be a wolf.

It was approaching twilight when Vien and I went back to my quarters, having excuse from the banquet. I fell on my sofa and put an arm over my eyes. My head still pounded. Vien lit the lamps and kneeled to help me with my booths, and for once I was too tired to argue against it.

"We made an enemy today"

He looked up at me, and his fine features were thoughtful. I watched the dancing shadows on the walls.

"House Suen was ever hardly an ally. Ghuozi is a child of Clerres. He should have known better, my liege"

I sighed and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"He is a foolish boy who speak before thinking, Vien. He doesn't deserve to die for it."

My Huan looked at me and said nothing.

I breathed out and made a gesture with my hand.

"Prepare my bath. I prefer to be alone, tonight"

He nodded and raised to his feet, bowed, and left. I looked at nothing and thought of nothing while petting Snowcloud, who was sleepy, her head on my knees. I was so tired, thoughts slurred in my brain like mud over water.

I think I dozed off, for when I opened my eyes again it was because I had heard the door open behind me. I knew, before my eyes found him, who would I see.

My friend was standing there, his back to the door, his bronze face pinched in something I could not name. He was still dressed in the complete White attire he had at the Ceremony that day. His gaze was unfocused _._ I watched him and felt dread and knew not why.

Second ticked into eternity. I was growing chiller and chiller by the moment. Snowcloud, at my feet, whined keenly. I watched the White Prophet. I could not fathom what he looked at.

"I can't stand this anymore"

The flatness of his voice chilled me. I had not heard him speak so since our parting, so long a time before. My mount was parched. I tried to swallow, and found I couldn't. I did not know what was happening, nor why.

"Is this about Suen Ghuozi? Because..." My words sounded feeble at my own ears. Snowcloud whined again, and pawed at me but I barely felt her touch or her questing towards me. The Fool looked at me now and stillness seemed to grow around him, calm as the sea before a terrible storm.

"I... do not know what I am doing. I do not know where I am leading. I am blind, Fitz, blinder than you think when you speak the word. How can a man live like this, after knowing the strength, the certainty, the power of the Futures spreading as an endless fan in front of him? The boy, today... He was right. I am not the White Prophet. They have accepted me only because they needed somebody, anybody, to decide about what was happening in Liantharin. And I choose wrong. Wrong, Fitz! People are still dying there. And he will die, too, to have spoken the truth."

Dusk descended upon us as he spoke. I clutched my hands into fists at my side. I gazed at my friend helplessly. How can a man answer to this?

Then it got worse. His dark eyes focused on me and something hard and dark glistened in them. I took a step back, my head swimming. Hatred, and disgust beside gleamed in them. It shocked me that he could look at me so. I opened my mount to speak, but again I could find no voice nor words.

"Why have you done this to me? I hate this... This half life. I thought, at least, that if you lived you had your happy life, away from me. And here I find you, and you have become a whore and a sham of yourself for a kingdom. I see you now, oh, I do, FitzChivalry Farseer" His features contorted in a mask, a rictus, not a smile. My friend had never smiled like that. "I should never have pined after something like you. I loathe you as you are now. A whore for Sendàr and a for a throne. Why had you to take away the last of my fancies? Why had you to shred my last dream? Better to think you dead than like... Like this."

The World blend in my eyes, a wild dance of hazy shades. I could not see. The sound of my own blood thundered in my ears. I could not hear. I know I was short of breath like I had ran for miles. I was standing still, yet I staggered. Blood left my skin, leaving me chilled. Whore. How had he know? Who had told him? Fear and shame washed over me, dirtying me in their passage. I felt darkness close over my mind, and the feeling of too strong, unwelcomed hands touching my skin. Bile rose in my throat. I battled those away, floundering like a drowning man fighting the sea waves. Darkness threatened to close on me. I opened my mouth to breathe. "Fool..." I said "Please." How weak and pleading my cry sounded to my own ears.

I could not see him, in the gloomy mist that had descended upon me. But I could hear. I wished I could not.

"I am not the fool. Call me not so."

As he spoke thusly to me, I heard other words, said by the same man, a lifetime afore. " _If you insist we must both take different names now, then I shall call you ‘Beloved.’ And whenever I call you that, you may call me ‘Fool.’"_

A terrible darkness engulfed me, worse than anything elfbark had ever produced. I think I fell to my knees, for I know I was staring at the floor, and it was close to me. I overheard a growl and a scrape of claws on wood, and the snapping of powerful jaws closing on nothing. The door opened and closed hurriedly. I noticed all of this but dimly. I was choking. My hands were restrained, again, and in a flash of panic I knew what was going to happen. I scraped at the wooden floor and my nails must have broken, since something in me registered the black line of blood on timber. But most of me was in Sendàr's quarters in the Inner Rooms. I had to go there, every night I was in Dushanbe. Even knowing what he would do to me. For I had to be King. Powerlessly I felt myself spiral deeper and deeper into my worst memories, the sickening taste of his flesh in my mount and the foul smell of him in the air. I scrambled again on the floor, searching the pain of the present to anchor me against the pain of the past. Whore for a Kingdom. How...

_Changer. Brother, rise._

I blinked. Breath came and went raggedly in my throat.

_Changer. Changer. Changer. Rise._

I raised my head at the chant in my mind, meeting the blue eyes of my companion. Snowcloud whined and nosed my cheeks. The feeling of her cold, humid nose awoke me. I tried to stand, but the ground was slippery under my feet, and I fell again. I stood still, my forehead on the ground, and discovered I was crying when I perceived the wetness on the floor. Tears combined with blood on the pavement.

My unblinking eyes seemed to weep on their own accord. It was not pain what I felt. Rather, it was like the numbness after a great blow. I have seen men hop around in battle, heedless of missing limbs and wondered how that could happen. Now I knew.

I slowly rose to sit on my haunches. My throat hurt and I could only breath by short hiccups. Blindly I outstretched my hands, like a child seeking his mother. Snowcloud's fur felt true and shocking good on my palms. I gripped it, and I fear I may have pained her in doing so. I buried my face in her neck while she stood still and allowed me. I think I cried again, till all the tears I had were sheared and the night was well under way over the Amber Castle. Not for the first time in my life, I cried myself to sleep. I did not judged my own tears. I had no virility to lose anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allright, I admit it. This chapter hits hard. But please believe me there are reasons for which Beloved is acting in such a way, and they WILL become clear... in due time.
> 
> Also, I like to see Fitz suffers. But again who doesn't? :D


	11. Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, sad times ahead! But it will get better I swear. Uh, sooner or later
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, thanks to Andromeda Aires who is my inspirer :* And to Carlile and Sand Dun, who are my wonderful beta-readers :D

** Chapter Nine: Spider **

 

_"In an ancient, gone time_

_When Clerres was the prime_

_A wise man came and said_

_That the price of life is pain_

_In an ancient, gone time_

_far afore I wrote this rhyme_

_A wiser one still_

_said pain is of love bill._

_In an ancient, gone time_

_Many sages spoke by._

_But the wisest of them all_

_said pain is Fate's thrall"_

_From the Poem "Prices" of Poet Tinni_

 

I felt the sun. It hurt my eyes, insistent and unabashed, even behind my closed eyelids. I did not open them. I did not want to wake.  

Snowcloud's fur smelled good under my face. I buried my nose in her flank and smelled her clean, sharp scent. My eyes leaked, wetting her white coat. I felt her rasp tongue on my cheek, I tried to curl around her, as I was her pup, and felt the sigh that heaved her side.

_Changer, brother._

I shut my eyes closer. A ragged breath, a gulp of air, passed in my throat without my desire. I clung to sleep. Pain was awaiting me. I did not want to wake.

But no man can lie still and bide his time forever, awaiting for death to end all pain. And no King, even more so. I perceived somebody getting closer and Snowcloud smelled the Young One. I groaned and heard steps. I did not open my eyes. The feet stopped, then approached, cautiously. I did not move. Vien had seen me in worse state than this.

I heard the rustle of his robe as he kneeled at my side. I stood still.

Time passed. The sun changed the angle on which it hit my eyelids.

But there is a limit at the amount of time a man can hide inside himself, and in the end I had to open my eyes, and to face the day.

Wearily, I scrambled on my haunches. My back screamed in pain from having slept in such a position. I winced and ground my teeth. I attempted to stand, and fell on the ground, landing on all four. The impact reawakened the pain on my torn nails. I watched them without seeing. Two finger nails had been broken and one hanged, torn, from my index finger. There were deep, bloodied scratches in the polished wooden floor. I did not glance at Vien. Snowcloud rose on her pawn and whined softly, scraping again my face with her tongue. I pressed my brown against her head.

"Vien, I need bandages. Water. And some ginksoap." I listen to him raising and carefully sat on my haunches. Then, grabbing at Snowcloud and at the sofa, I rose. I welcomed the pain on my hands. It was better than the one I felt pulsating in my chest.

I breathed. The smells of the castle, paint and wood and cold stone, were soothing. I watched down at my rumpled clothes.

_One thing at time, brother mine. Wash, bandages. Groom yourself. Change furs._

I heard Vien coming back, and turned. I avoided to look at his face, even if I knew I would have found it expressionless. I focused my eyes on the tray he carried. He put it on the desk. I measured the space between the desk and myself and wondered if I could make it. My head felt light, as full of clouds. Snowcloud came and rested her weight against my leg. I looked at her, white against the black of my trousers.

_Walk, Changer. Just some steps._

I obeyed her, and found that I could walk. I put my hand in the soapy water. The pain spiked from my missing fingernail and I bit my lips not to show it. I watched the water turn pink. Tears misted my eyesight, and my breath grew labored. The new quality of pain tried to awoke feelings in me. I fought to keep them at bay. I took away my hands from the water and slowly patted them, examining the damage. Two of my fingers lacked nails completely. One had been torn almost completely aside, and it hurt just by moving. I watched it, wondering what to do. The pain moved through my warm like dancing flames, but it was welcome, so very welcome.

Vien made a sound at my side. I turned to watch him. His black eyes and pale face were so carefully neutral that they screamed more feeling than simple tears would.

"My Lord, I could heal you if you would only allow me to..."

His voice was soft, and his plea heartfelt, but the idea of his hands touching me rose bile on my throat and made me shudder. I fear my face showed my feeling because he did not say anything, anymore. I haltingly bandaged my fingers, breathing slowly, concentrating only on the task at hand, and on the pain.

I have never cherished pain. Neither did I in that moment. But sometimes, the pain of the body is easier to bear than the one of the heart, or the mind.

I sat at my desk. Snowcloud put her head on my knees and whined softly. I looked at her, and put the palm of my hand between her ear and caressed her. I could not scratch her.

Vien said nothing, but neither did he went away. I closed my eyes. Once, I had thought myself held in thrall by my lineage, even if I was but a bastard, and had relented and rallied against the people that I thought exercised such unfounded rights on me. Little I knew that the very possibility of sulking and brooding over pain was a gift a King doesn't have. Less still I understood the freedom my illegitimate state gave to me, far beyond what any trueborn Farseers ever had.

Far beyond what King Chihn had now.

I watched Vien. My Huan looked back at me.

"What there is to do?" I forced myself to ask, quietly.

He sighed. "Chyne skilled to me. The wind is propelling the sail, they will dock by high tide this afternoon." I groaned. Before I had anticipated. I tried to recall if all that was needed would be ready for their coming. It did seem so. Still, drinking myself to a stupor was out of question, now.

"Everything else is ready. Tomorrow morning we will depart for Silvarin." I nodded slowly, my head spinning. I shacked it to clear my thoughts and nodded. I did not want to think about traveling the White Road.

"Very well. Then tell the court King Chihn is meditating in preparation for the travel." I rose. My head swam. I resisted the urge to grip the desk.

Vien hesitated. I attempted to glare at him.

"My Liege, when you last ate?" His voice was quiet, but something in me snapped in anger.

"I wish to rest, Vien. Now go." I told him, coldly. He looked at me for a second, then bowed rigidly and went. Snowcloud said nothing, following me. I tried twice to bolt my door with the oak bar before succeeding. The rod felt heavier than ever before. I walked in a haze to my bed and sat here, atop of the cover, with my boots still on and I closed my eyes, trying to think of nothing.

How had I not learn, still? It was not lies that cut ties. The truth had severed in an instant what lies could have held together. I should have lied to him. I should have negated everything. Why hadn't I? The thought of Sendàr imposition on me loomed in my mind. My lips drew back from my teeth in something neither a smile nor a snarl. I shivered with cold and something more. No. Something less. I became aware I was rocking back and forth, tried to stop.

_Brother mine._

I watched Snowcloud, my mind hazy with pain. She whined like a puppy, echoing my feeling.

_I lost him, Snowcloud. I lost him._

The truth hit me. Memories held me. I had neither strength nor reason to keep them at bay anymore. I heard Snowcloud frantic cries in my mind. And then I was aware only of the revulsion I saw in my friend eyes. I only saw Sendàr, coming to me, and felt that sickening feeling in my stomach. I could only feel his hands all over my skin, his body over mine. I think I cried out, briefly, but I could not hear my own voice anymore. I couldn't even plead, not even in my mind. I had to allow it.

It is said you can drown in memories in the halls of the Elderlings. I can't attest the truth of that statement, but I do know a man can drown in his own memories as well as the ones of the past, living again and again events he knows as passed. All who have played an instrument or swung a weapon are aware that the body has a memory on its own. My body saw as present ordeals my mind knew as gone, and dreams and reality lost their margin and fused. That day, I drowned. I spent the hours not safe, in my rooms in the Amber Castle, but in Sendàr's quarters in the Inner Rooms.

The sound of wood crashing on the pavement jolted me from it. I jumped on my feet and looked bewildered at what was left of my door. A young woman, barely more than a girl, with dark hair and green eyes looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. Deliberately, slowly, she kicked away some planks that still bore a resemblance of carving, fine birds and delicate flowers, and step inside. She swung an axe lazily and flashed a smile at me, full of irony.

"Hello, Father. Long time no see"

She spoke the language of the Six Duchies, and was dressed in plain garb. A tunic of simple gold silk, and gray trousers. And she called me father, though in truth our relation was far more complex. I looked at the ruin on my floor and anger swelled in me, washing away memories. She had always been good at making me angry.

"Chyne! What are you doing here? How..." I looked out of the window.

The sun was setting. I had spent the best part of the day... Elsewhen. I closed my eyes. The fury was gone and in its wake I stood trembling and sick. I felt soiled and dirtied. My clothes were unkempt and unclean where blood from my hands had fell and dried on them.

"Vien tried to wake you up. He told me he pounded at your door for half an hour, and attempted to reach you with the Skill, as well. You should thank him, customs be damned. He lied to a lot of people for you, today."

I watched Chyne put down the axe and kneel in front of Snowcloud. I could feel my wit-partner, but dimly. I could perceive the walls I had put between me and the Skill, me and the Wit. Me and her, too. But trying to take them down seemed too much of a task. I eyed her, while she whined and lapped at Chyne's face, and hoped she could feel the reason behind my absence. I had always used those walls when I went to Sendàr, ever after the first time, when he took me unprepared. I did not want to vilify her by association to a whore.

"So, father. Tell me, why this, now? All is going well. And I have met your Prophet. What a strange creature." I closed my eyes. I gulped down slowly and my hands curled and uncurled at my side, pain lacing through me. Chyne went to her feet and regarded me levelly. She shocked her head. Sometimes, she looks so much like her father that my heart ache: she has his green eyes, glittering like gems, and their lightness was always surprising in her Farseer face.

"You need a bath. And food. Non in this order. First you eat, then you bathe. I have told Vien to take up something from the kitchen and you will eat it all if I have to force it on you"

She glared at me, folding her arms over her chest. The idea that such a slender, slight woman could force me to eat anything was so ridiculous I almost smile. Yet, Chyne is stronger than me in the Skill, and more ruthless beside.  

_Oh yes, she is. See how well our she-cub has grown, brother mine?_

I almost smiled. Snowcloud. I reached for her, and found warmth and caring and a quiet acceptance. I breathed out.

"As you wish, Chyne." I did not have the strength to fight her, even if the idea of food revolted my stomach.

Vien entered from the ruined door, studiously avoiding to eye at wreck on the floor and set a tray over the desk. I noticed Chyne and Vien exchanging glance, but my shields were still too high to understand if they were Skilling, and I was too weary to lower them. I sat on the desk and regarded the dishes. A nourishing soup of some kind. Vien had taken into consideration my injured hands in choosing the meal. I took the cup on both my hands, wincing at the pain of my still bare fingertips, and forced to swallow, while Chyne chatted about Dushanbe, Chien, and Chundra and swept the floor. I did not ask where she took the duster from. Possibly she took it with her, alongside the axe, when she came to my room. I ate. I went to my bathroom and bathed, alone but for Snowcloud's silent presence, being careful with the bandages. It took me a long, long time. No matter how much I scrubbed, I couldn't seem to get clean.

_Changer. Stop._

I watched Snowcloud over the brim of the bath.

_Why?_

_You are bleeding. Stop it, brother. Please._ I looked down at my chest and shoulder, where I was rubbing myself with a pumice stone. Blood seeped where I had wiped the skin away. I eyed it with mild surprise. I had not noticed it. I raised, washed up, don my afterbath clothes, and came back in my room. Chyne was still there, sitting on my bed. The wreckage had been taken away. I regarded her. I felt so very, very tired. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. My fingers still hurt.

"I'll leave you alone, Father. You need your rest"

Chyne stood up and in her green eyes I could see all the worry she had felt. She is more handsome than pretty, my lass, with strong, Farseer features and a stubborn set on her jaw, but concern for me relaxed her traits and softened the line of her face. I managed a pitiful attempt of a smile.

"Take care of yourself, Chyne" She nodded. She stood on the tip of her feet to kiss my check, and almost went. Then she stopped, turned to face me and put her hand on her hips in a pose so akin Jek that for a moment I saw my old friend, there, instead of my adopted daughter. But she addressed Snowcloud, not me, as she spoke.

"Snowcloud, take care of my father. He tends to forget he should do it by himself" I almost smiled. The irony was familiar, too.

She left. I fell on my bed and closed my eyes, my forearm on my eyes.

I had lost him.

I curled up on the bed and wondered how could I live the next thousand of years without the one person who should have been my companion. Time stretched in front of me, black and endless. My bond-partner jumped on the bed and curled around me. Her presence filled me with silent companionship and care. But still, I was not whole.

 _We can't be complete without him._ I told her, helpless. Snowcloud growled, deep in her throat. The sound reverberated through me. I could feel her anger, but could not understand it. Why was she angry? _We shall see, Changer. We have each other, for now._ I shook my head, blindly staring at nothing.  

I knew I would never be whole again.

 

 

 

** Chien and Snowcloud **

** **

**THIS is done by[Andromeda-Aires](http://andromeda-aries.deviantart.com/), the most wonderful of readers. Aren't they cute? :D**


	12. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, my deepest thanks to Carlile and Sand-Dun for their invaluable help.
> 
> And many kisses to Andromeda-Aires, to whom this work is dedicated :*
> 
>  
> 
> This is the last chapter of Yellow :) Next week the next part of Colour of Roses shall begin!

_**__ ** _

_**__ ** _

_**_ Interlude _ ** _

_**__ ** _

_**__ ** _

_The young boy is looking at the barren landscape. He is dressed mostly leathers, well groomed and well tend, but at his waist there is a belt of wowed fibers. His pale, straw-like hair is bound back in a tail. He is tall, but his shoulders are still narrow, his body poised between the child and the man._

_The scene is still and lifeless, but the boy can feel the lives. He feels it all, from the grasses to the distant grazer, beyond the hill, and to the sabre-tooth that is stalking the grazers. He feels the birds in the sky and the fishes in the streams. The boy is completely still, the stillness of the hunter. He has nothing with him, but what he wears. No weapons nor stone knives, not even a pouch to carry tools. Nothing. The boy looks at the Rock Mountain, with its two branches. The Tribe's caves are on one of it. The second, smaller one, is the home of the Deads. Flint tears his sight away from it._

_His blue-grey eyes glide the land. It is empty and wide, limitless. Grasses taller than the boy and as grey as his eyes and the sky overcast cover it. A cold wind sweeps the plain, bending the plants. The snow had not yet come, but it is not far away, a crispiness in the air hinting of winter already. Autumn had yielded its fruits, and Winter is soon to come._

_"Not a good moment, for your initiation. I needed no foresight to know that they would have never choose a good one for it. For you."_

_For a moment, the boy doesn't stir. Then he turns around._

_Vanyel regards Flint with a cunning glint in his colourless eyes. He is not as tall as the other boy, but something in his leanness bespoke of strength, his lithe body strung like the cord of bow. His snowy hair are bound in a tight braid, and his checks and nose are slightly skinned by the sun. His right hand holds a fine spear, with a bone tip. His skin is as white as his hair, as white as the snow._

_Flint's eyes fall on the spear._

_"You can't come with me" His voice breaks when he speaks, and he blinks. He clears his throat the sound startlingly harsh among the soft noises of the World._

_Vanyel nods and watches the prairie._

_"I know. That is why I came now"_

_Flint's face is losing his childish traits. Vanyel watches it, as in memorizing it. Pale eyes sweep over the high forehead, the slightly aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones and over Flint's lips._

_Flint stays silent, allowing the inspection. Aside from them, only the wind over the grasses and the clouds over the sky move in the landscape._

_"It will be the first time in six Autumns we part for long. It seems... odd."_

_Vanyel studies Flint eyes in response, but keep his silence. A far away, distant look came across him, both sad and yearning. Distant noises are heard. People talking. The rhythmic sound of drums._

_Vanyel thins his lips._

_"I shall be here, Flint. Hidden, but here. In case they try something on you."_

_Flint shakes his head and looks toward the rising noise._

_"They won't. They have left me in peace after Koar... died."_

_Vanyel doesn't answer to this, but his pale forehead moves. He raises a slim hand over Flint chest and looks at him, in the eyes. Flint doesn't flinch away. The White child breaths deeply._

_"The way in is the way out"._

_Flint blinks and looks at Vanyel with a puzzled expression, but the child doesn't say anything else. He retreats a little, while the sound of the drums grow nearer and nearer, almost melting among the grasses. Vanyel hesitates, turns around and pounce._

_Flint is caught unaware. His arms fly around the slender torso of the smallest man._

_"Don't die, D'hilamin. Don't die. And be back to me" The whisper is in a different tongue from the one that is audible, together with the drumming. Before Flint can answer, Vanyel disentangles himself, agile as a fish on water, and disappear into the grasses._

_Flint looks at the place where the white form had gone. Then he turns, to face his manhood._

_____

_The wind blows cold and unforgiving over the steppes._

_Flint breathes over his hands to warm them. His senses are sharp, and his expression vigilant, but unafraid. He moves quietly into the landscape. He has nothing with him, but he feels no alarm. Other children may never have had to take care of themselves, far away from the vigilant and benign eyes of the tribe's adults. But not him._

_The boy closes his eyes and concentrates on his outer sense, his lips thinning. Then he sighs and shocks his head and keep walking. Twice the sun had set over the horizon from the day he had left the tribe that is not truly his, and the White child who is._

_He hasn't found what he is searching._

_His meandering way seems random, but it brings him slowly but surely closer to the sound of water._

_The river sweeps across the mountains, between the desert and the prairies, like the wind over it. It is wide, deceptively slow. Trees grow around it. It originates from the mountain, the same whence the boy came. Here, it takes two path. The first path is towards the steppes. The second one is hidden, for the river goes inside the Earth, coming back to the Mother Earth. It flows under the mountain. Flint looks at the endless waste at his left. Before, it wasn't like this, the Olds say. Afore, when the Winter Spirits weren't so strong, there was less desert, and more big game. But now, the Ice Mountain is coming closer and closer to his sibling, the Rock Mountain, at his right. And the tribe is trapped between the two._

_Flint shrugs the thoughts aside and stops close to the water and wait some more, slithering between grasses taller than him, thrusting is outer sense more than his eyes or ears. He stops at the first tree and raises a hand to caress it. He smiles. Then he squats down and watches, in silence._

_Close to him, separated by a bend in the river, a massive creature, roughly bipedal, moves slowly toward the water. Its fur is long and matted with green lichen, and it has two long claws in each forepaw. Its muzzle is long. It is huge, as big as three tall men one over the other shoulders. Two others are coming, slowly, towards the water. Flint watches, not looking left nor right, careful at making himself small and unobtrusive with his outer sense._

_Then the boy tenses and raises his straw-coloured head, his nostrils flaring. He raises on the ball of his feet and looks around, gray-blue eyes keen._

_Somebody has answered his call._

_The boy moves cautiously, touching the ground with care, not to upset pebbles or branches, with the oscillating balance that can change direction in an heartbeat. For a moment he stands completely still, and poised. Then he throws himself to his left. Where he was but a second before, a massive shadow appear, landing perfectly on four paws. The creature growls. Flint looks at it, unafraid, already on his feet. Grey-blue eyes meet jade-green ones. The boy inclines his head and a small, tight smile appears on his lips. The giant jaguar growls again and circles around him. Flint moves, always pointing his face at the predator._

_The jaguar is young for his kin, as the boy is. Still, he is a strong animal, as heavy as a full grow man, and, if on two legs, taller than one. Its fur is thick, hanging from its flask and making a curtain from its tail, and spotted. In the end, the jaguar sit and coils its tail around his forepaw, curling his lips to show its teeth and inhaling sharply._

_Flint's smile widens a little and the boy turns his back to the jaguar, and starts running. The jaguar jumps. But not to stop a not-existent escape. They are hunting. The jaguar falls into time with the cadence of the boy swift feet. The steppes are full of game. And Flint and the jaguar are hungry._

______

_Three suns set. Three moons rise._

_The boy is looking at the river again, one of the few places in the ice-desert World were game is found, and he is crouching behind a boulder, left here from some ancient flood. Over the rock, a tree has grown. Over the tree, the jaguar awaits. They have hunted well, together. The boy leathers, once well tended, is encroached with blood. His hair is matted and untidy. His rough hands are lined with black dirt. He smells of blood and jaguar, for he has slept curled up with the beast. He raises his head and his nostrils flare. His brows furrow. The jaguar, up above, growls. The boy outer senses, almost forgotten, is telling him something. The boy shakes his head and blinks in confusion._

_"I knew you wouldn't succeed, Wrongborn. You didn't prove me wrong."_

_The voice is speaking, and the boy turns his head. The jaguar lowers itself over the stout branch, its spots make hard to see him, but the outer sense of the hunt-brothers can feel him, nonetheless. There is no way to hide._

_"So, now we can hunt you. At long last."_

_The boy's eyes dart around. Five pairs, ten shapes. All around the boulder and the trees. Names swam in his memory. He looks at the river. At the other side of it, other shapes moves in the grasses. The jaguar growls. It wants to pounce. The boy shakes his head, and blinks, again and again. No. He looks at the river, at the banks. Then, he looks at the second river. The Hidden, Sacred River of the Mother, that flows towards the second branch of the Rock Mountain from its sibling, the Ice Mountain._

_"The way... the way..." The boy's voice breaks, rough with disuse. But it is enough, the hunt-brothers hesitate, hearing his voice. But Flint's outer sense is clear as the water in front of him, now. They want blood. His blood._

_He jumps on his feet, and dive. The jaguar roars, and follow him._

_"We are on both banks, Wrongborn! You won't escape this time."_

_"Kiavìl, he is going downstream!"_

_"Be strong, hunt-brother, he will have to... By the Great Mother! He is taking the Underpath!"_

_The twenty shapes stop. Flint dives underground, where the bodies of the dead go._

_____

_The sun has set and rise and is setting again. Flint is walking, his eyes blinking to keep the ice out of his eyelids. He is shivering in his tattered robe, one of his footwear is lost and he limps over the injured foot. The jaguar, with its deep fur, is dry and circles around the boy, urging him forward._

_Flint blinks again. Small fires are coming closer with every step. The boy clenches his jaw and force himself to walk faster. Toward the light of his people._

_____

_The White child is at the top of a hill, looking at the steppes. The grasses are flatten, and around him there are the telltales signs of a spot much used in a short period of time. It is cold, the clouds above promising snow soon. The child huddles himself in the furs and watch, stubbornly._

_Then he jumps to his feet, his small hands clutching convulsively at the pelts. He stands still while Flint limps toward the other, bigger campfire. His small face barely moving, but his teeth worrying his lips. He doesn't acknowledge the jaguar that goes with the boy._

_When Flint disappears behind the hill, the White child's shoulders drop. His colourless eyes close slowly. He turns around, and walk into the small cave. Alone._

_Outside, the clouds circle over the wind-swept steppes._

_____

_The sound of falling wood echoes into the cavern, clacking against the hard stone floor._

_Vanyel rises from the sleeping fur, and turn his eyes toward the shelter's mouth. Flint stumbles inside and falls over the ground. The jaguar prowls outside. Vanyel looks for a second at the hunched form of the boy, and then, without a sound, he stands and kindles the fire._

_"They won't make me a man. They say I cheated. That I went beyond death. That I should have stayed there. They say..."_

_"They say too much, d'hila."_

_The fire is lit. The small chamber is lightened. Flint lays curved up, his robes tattered and encrusted, his left foot darkened by his own blood, his arms clutching his knees. He rocks slightly. He looks small. As small as the child who hunted megaloceros years ago. Vanyel watches him, and his features softens. He takes a bowl and fills it with water and herbs. Gently, he puts Flint's foot inside it. The boy flinches, but he doesn't move._

_"I thought they would accept me, once I had proved them I was a hunter. Once I had a companion to prove my outer sense."_

_Vanyel says nothing. Outside, in the Night, the jaguar growls. A shadow passes in front of the entrance, dark against dark. Flint uncurls, and he looks blankly at Vanyel. Then, a slow smile appears on his lip._

_"That... is Whiteclaw. I hope you will go along well, together." The young boy clenches and unclenches his fingers. Vanyel's small, still childish face is carefully neutral. Time passes, as it does. Vanyel cleans Flint's face with a wet clothes of woven fibers. "You were right. The way out was the way in. I... went inside the Earth Mother River and... I think there is a passage, down here. I think it goes to the other side of the Rock Mountain."_

_Vanyel breathes in, slowly, and exhales. A shudder wracks his lithe body. Flint regards him, seriously. Vanyel's eyes close._

_"You knew." It is not a question. But Vanyel just shakes his white head, his hair, so airy and weightless, form a halo around his face. White on white. "You came into the Tribe's ground."_

_Vanyel shakes his head, again. He studies the rock of the small cave, his eyes following the dancing shadows created from the flame._

_"The path I used it closed by the ice, now, D'hila. And I did not know. Not as you would say know. The way out and the way in. Remember it, Flint."_

_The gibbous moon is at its fullest in the night, covered by heavy clouds, and the small cave is spot of red and yellow in a world of blue and gray. Small, crisp flakes of snow starts falling, powders of ice over the landscape._

_"Vanyel?"_

_"Yes, Flint?"_

_"I lost the belt... I am sorry."_

_"I'll make you another one. Rest now. I'll sing you to sleep."_

_Outside, under a natural shelter created by a fallen boulder, Whiteclaw curls up and falls asleep._

_The snow covers the steppes. The Ice Mountain glistens and grow._


End file.
